


Welcome To The Candy Shop

by regretdotjpg



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom Jesse McCree, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, M/M, Masturbation, PLAYBOY BUNNY MCCREE!!!!!, Strippers & Strip Clubs, stripper mccree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-05-16 05:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 43,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14805053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regretdotjpg/pseuds/regretdotjpg
Summary: Mccree gets sent on an undercover mission to work at a strip club as a bartender. He ends up in a drastically different job that suits him devastatingly well.Dedicated to Mccree's amazing legs and booty. Y'all sleeping on them.





	1. Take it or Leave it

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read the tags, this is just Mccree going on an undercover mission and ending up being a stripper because who needs a logical plot???? And I may tag ships if I think I should, but everything aside from the mcgenji and mchanzo isn't a serious ship.
> 
> I'm not sure if it’s gonna be just mcgenji or mchanzo but IF I do both I’m going to make two separate chapters, one where Jesse gets with Genji and one where he gets with Hanzo in a “choose your own adventure type of thing”. Essentially, whichever chapter you pick is the “official” route in your reading fo this fic.
> 
> (and I repeat, there’s NO INCEST)

“Based on the information we’ve picked up, Talon will be holding quite a few deals at this club. While we will be sending agents to scout the club, we need somebody to there as often as possible who won’t raise suspicion. That’s where you come in.”

Winston paused, waiting to see if McCree was following along. McCree nodded, indicating for Winston to continue.

“I’ve already sent an application of yours for a bartender job there, and you’ve been accepted for an interview. Throughout the mission, you will be Jesse Harris. Of course, you already know all this.”

Jesse nodded once again, running a hand through his longer-than-usual hair. He’d been told about this mission a few weeks in advance. More specifically, he’d been told how _important_ this mission would be and how important it was that he landed the job. The whole ruggedly handsome thing he had going really did work for him, but the club in question was known for being high class. They didn’t know if the whole rugged look would fly at such a place, and frankly, Winston hadn’t wanted to take the chance.

So at the request (demand) of Winston (and a few pushy others), he’d grown out his hair to a little past his shoulders, into something more manageable and style-able. It wasn’t too bad, being that all he did to his hair was brush it to keep it in check, and part it to the side for the “sake of fashion”. But what really stung was that he’d been forced into trimming his beard this morning. He supposed that in the end, he was a wanted man with a frankly impressive bounty, so a little change of appearance was in order if he wanted to do an undercover mission. But that didn’t change the fact that he was keenly feeling the loss of his beard.  And his hat. And his belt. And his serape. And his spurs. And basically any sort of identifying feature of his. Instead, he was decked out in normal people clothes, as Lucio had put it. A collared shirt and a pair of slacks. Boring, if you asked him.

“Cutting your beard and growing out your hair isn’t going to be enough to go unnoticed.” Ana had admonished him, strong in her support from basically the entire team, “Your cowboy get up is your trademark look, Jesse. A blind man would know who you are.”

Jesse had just grumbled in response.

Overall, the whole new look actually looked really good on McCree—it had even gotten two whole thumbs up from Reinhardt—but he couldn’t help but sigh. The things he did for justice.

McCree, along with Winston, was seated in the room designated for mission briefing. They sat at a large round table, accompanied by a few others: Ana, Jack (or “Soldier 76”, apparently) Reinhardt, both Shimadas, Lúcio, and Torbjörn. Everybody else involved in the recall was currently either out on a mission or busy with something else.

“My job is to keep an eye out for the talon representatives. See what they’re up to, maybe stop ‘em, and _definitely_ stop ‘em if they go blowing up a storm. Torbjörn,” McCree tipped his head toward the man in question, “is gonna give me a lil techno-something that’ll open any unlocked door in case in case something happens.” McCree paused as he came to a sudden realization. He shifted forward, resting his arms on the table, “I don’t even know the name of the place.”

Winston cleared his throat, “Ah, right. The club’s called the Candy Shop. It’s a, uh…..” He suddenly trailed off, gaze flying askance. He adjusted his glasses a bit, fidgeting all the while. McCree raised his eyebrows.

Ana laughed, “We’re all adults here, Winston. You’re allowed to say the words ‘strip club’.” She said, clearly entertained. Lúcio coughed, either in surprise or to cover up a laugh. Possibly both. McCree grinned at Winston’s expense, while Genji snorted in amusement and broke off into a chuckle.

Hanzo watched Genji laugh with a slightly distant look in his eye. Their bond was well on its way to being what it was like years ago, before _what happened_. It was as good as mended, but every now and then Hanzo reverted back to what he had been like when he had first arrived. Much of Overwatch hadn’t exactly been the most trusting at first, for obvious reasons, but as time passed they opened up to the archer. This had startled Hanzo considerably, but it was...nice...to be alongside his brother again and actually fitting in with other people.

This didn't go unnoticed by McCree. Despite his initial distrust of Hanzo, largely because he had known Genji durinf Blackwatch, he'd come to like the guy. McCree was happy for them, but now wasn't the time for sappy shit like this.

“What hell’s Talon doing at a strip club?” Jesse asked, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair as the laughter died down. Recovering from his momentary embarrassment, Winston could only offer McCree a shrug.

“We know that they plan to host a few deals there. We’re not sure why, but that’s where you come in, isn’t it? 

“Fair enough.” Jesse tilted his head.

“Alright.” Winston paused to adjust his glasses again, “So, your team will be comprised of Lúcio, Genji, Hanzo, and Soldier 76. They will be sent to infiltrate the club every once in a while and on days of suspected Talon dealings. You will alert them in case you are in need of backup or if you see a dealing we are unaware of.”

Another pause, filled with a nods from McCree and his team. Winston focused his gaze on his tablet, quickly scanning something on the screen.

“Oh, and, Agent McCree, based on what I’ve found, the Candy Shop operates a little differently from other clubs.” Winston said, tapping at the tablet, “It’s known for being high class, so I assume that gives the owner room to do what he wants. Your interviewer may be the owner himself, and furthermore, you may be offered a different job from what you applied for.”

“You’re saying employees can end up in a job they didn’t even apply for?” All eyes turned to Jack as he incredulously voiced his question. He said it with the tone of somebody who knew what it was like trying to run a chaotic organization, “I’m surprised the place is still up and running.

“It’s not like that for everybody applying. From what I’ve heard, the owner personally decides if you’d do better in a different job.” Winston responded with a shrug, before turning back to Jesse, “On that note, McCree, keep that in mind. You may end up a bartender, or you may get an offer to be a bouncer or something like that. If you can, try to negotiate for whatever role would suit the mission best, but only if they’re open to negotiation. If there’s no other option, take whatever they offer. Whatever you do, get a job at that club.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” McCree held up his hands, “I’ll get a job there.”

 

 

Hours later, McCree was being toured around the Candy Shop by none other than the owner himself. He was a relatively young man, early to mid thirties, impeccably dressed. McCree had a feeling the price tag of his tie itself would make a person burst into tears. The expensive outfit was matched with a charming smile; overall, the man looked like what you’d expect a young business owner to look like. His name was Lee Davisson, but he apparently went by Dave. Probably in order to appear more approachable. McCree went along with it.

Dave had talked to McCree for a little bit in what was probably his office, before offering to give Jesse a look around the club. Being that the Candy Shop apparently didn’t open until 7 pm on Mondays, it was a relatively peaceful tour, interrupted only by employees moving here and there. McCree made sure to make a mental map of what he’d seen so far—main club on the first floor, little private rooms off it, and a casino on the second floor. Hopefully he’d be able to see more once he got the job.

“As you may know,” Dave began. McCree snapped to attention, “the Candy Shop operates differently that other clubs. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

Dave turned his gaze to McCree, who nodded, “Yeah. Sometimes you assign jobs to people who applied for something else.”

“The reason I do this is only because I really believe they could do better in that other job. It can create a more fluid workforce, which can in turn attract customers. I make decisions based off the person’s characteristics. Sometimes it’s a personality thing, but most of the time, it’s physical. It seems a bit shallow…” Dave admitted, looking a tad sheepish, before flashing a Colgate smile, “...but this _is_ a strip club.”

“I get it. If somebody has a thing going for ‘em that would work better in a different job, you move ‘em to that job.” McCree said genially, tossing in a good old friendly southern grin for good measure.

“Exactly!” Dave exclaimed, “As for you...you’re attractive, so I’d say you’d do well as bartender. I may have you working during peak hours, or in the front.”

McCree realized a little late that Dave had technically complimented him. But to be fair, it was more of a statement than an actual compliment. Nevertheless, he softly uttered a ‘Thank you kindly’.

Dave sighed diplomatically, “I’m afraid you may end up a little swamped. Two of our dancers left recently, and we’re scrambling to find more employees. Perhaps if we were to increase our income on the bar end, we could make up for the lost profits of the dancers. Hopefully we’ll be able to find new dancers soon, but we’ll take all the help we can get.”

He said that in a conspiratorial tone, accompanied by, yet again, a Colgate smile. If McCree wasn’t so used to tangling with businessmen (whether it was on the job or as an outlaw-mercenary), he would’ve almost fallen for it. From what he could tell, Dave wasn’t necessarily a bad person. Seemed pretty decent, actually, but Jesse knew that businessmen could be a bit...ruthless.

He still offered Dave a smile as he impulsively reached down to rest a hand on his belt buckle. Halfway through it, Jesse remembered he wasn’t wearing his BAMF belt and cursed muscle memory (even though it had saved his ass a few times before). Dave’s eyes instinctively followed the motion downwards, his eyes coming to an accidental rest at McCree’s hips.

Hips, Dave realized with a jolt, that were appealingly wide and curved away from his waist. A waist that was comparatively thinner because of the artistically lean, compact muscles of McCree’s stomach, evident under the tight shirt. Said tight shirt slung to his chest, showing off nicely shaped pecs. Below the hips was a smooth curve leading down to pleasingly thick thighs, which sloped down into long, shapely legs that seemed to run on for miles. As McCree turned slightly to avoid running into a table, Dave caught sight of the round swell of his ass.

Dave came to a stop, suddenly lost in thought. McCree, in turn, halted. He turned towards the businessman with an inquisitive look.

“You alright there, Dave?” The cowboy asked, arching an eyebrow. Dave remained in a contemplative silence, before he seemed to have an epiphany. He whirled around and focused on McCree with startling intensity, making him jump in surprise. He looked Jesse square in the face with a scrutinizing gaze, making the cowboy squirm slightly. A second later, Dave’s gaze raked down McCree’s body. Dave must’ve found whatever he was looking for, because he nodded in approval.

“Jesse, come with me to my office. There’s something else I’d like to discuss.” Dave announced, already turning on his heel. McCree blinked, then scrambled after the other man. Jesse couldn’t help but wonder why the hell they couldn’t talk out here. Maybe he wanted to make it seem more official. Damn business people.

Dave ushered McCree into his lavish office, then sat them both down at his desk. Dave leaned forward on his elbows, interlocking his fingers. McCree resisted the urge to fidget, feeling nervous over the suddenness of it all. And the way Dave was smiling. He waited for Dave to start talking; it was obvious some gears were turning in the man’s head.

“As I said, I assign people to other jobs if I believe they would be better in them.” Dave said, sounding pleased with himself, “So, I have an offer for you.”

 _Huh,_ McCree thought. He hadn’t thought he’d be offered something else. Maybe Dave thought he’d be a good bouncer or something. He simply shifted around and waited to see where this would go.

“This job will have a higher pay, but it may be something...you hadn’t expected. So this is a take it or leave it, Jesse.” Dave said, not missing the way Jesse’s eyebrows shot up. It really wasn’t take it or leave it, but Dave wasn’t above putting on a little pressure to get the job filled. McCree didn’t know this, and was mildly annoyed. He needed to get a job here, so he had no other option but to hear out Dave.

“Well, what is it?” McCree said, biting back a heavy sigh.

Dave grinned dazzlingly and spread his arms with flourish,“Be a dancer!”

McCree blinked.

Had he heard that right? A _dancer_? Did Dave mean what he thought he meant?

“Hold on. Ya mean, like, a...strip—?”

“Yes, yes, stripper, dancer, whatever term you use.” Dave responded, waving his hand dismissively, “What I’m offering you is a job as a dancer here. The pay will be higher than the bartender job, and the hours the same unless you choose to work overtime. You only have to give us a fourth of whatever tips you collect. You get the rest, AND your paycheck. What do you say, Jesse?”

McCree was still reeling from the very idea of the offer. Dave wanted him to work at a strip club. As a stripper. McCree didn’t see anything wrong with somebody being a stripper, but…. _him?_ He didn’t know if he could handle the utter shit a stripper faced on a daily basis from patrons, along with the whole...stripping thing. He was confident in his own skin and all, but this was really, _really_ unexpected. He realized belatedly he was still blinking stupidly. The neurons or whatever it was in his brain took a few more seconds to finally start working again.

“Uh. What else? Is there anything else I hav’ta know?” Jesse managed to say.

“Oh, well,” Dave paused to think, “Given what I have in mind for you, waxing will most likely be involved. I already have your outfit picked out in my head; think of it as a uniform, like in any other job. I believe that’s all you need to know. Now what _I_ need to know....is your answer.”

Dave paused theatrically, slowly lowering his hands to his desk. He pinned McCree down with a slightly intense gaze, building the tension in a way he knew would pile on the pressure. _Damn him,_ he was good at this whole business thing.

“Well, Jesse? Are you interested in the offer? Remember, this is take it or leave it.”

McCree opened and closed his mouth like a fish, fidgeting slightly. Winston’s voice echoed in his head.

_“Whatever you do, get a job at that club.”_

This was an important mission, after all.

“....Alright. I’ll take it.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, pleaaase, leave a kudos and/or a comment if you liked it! K but seriously I'm open to all kinds of feedback.
> 
> Thanks for reading this self-indulgent hot mess!!
> 
> Visit my tumblr: [regret-dot-jpg](https://regret-dot-jpg.tumblr.com/)


	2. You Look Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree gets his uniform (ft. a random omnic character I thought of as I was typing). It's...not what he was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope u like!!! Pls like it I have a family.
> 
> Gets a teeny bit suggestive in this chapter, but also not really. Sorry. It'll come eventually, ya nasties ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). Also, rn im posting this in a aquarium store drinking coffee with my friends so yee that’s my life.

“Raise your arms, please,” Ijuri, the omnic tasked with seeing McCree through the preparation process, asked as she gently pushed at the limbs in question.

McCree did so, allowing her to wrap the measuring tape around his chest. As soon Ijuri was done, she stepped back and let he drop his arms. Jesse was stripped down to his boxers, trying to stand still so that Ijuri could take his measurements. His clothes had been stuffed into a well-built but expensive looking black bag that was courtesy of the Candy Shop. All in all, the whole stripper-thing wasn’t that bad at the moment, and Ijuri was plenty nice, but McCree couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive of what could be coming.

“Well, that was the last measurement I needed. Let me just relay the information to the tailors, and then we can carry on.” Ijuri said, her robotic but melodic voice helping to soothe McCree’s ruffled feathers. She opened a panel in her arm and typing away at a screen. Once done, she slid the panel back into place and looked up at Jesse. There was a pregnant pause as Ijuri silently scrutinized the cowboy, taking in how he fidgeted and shifted.

“You seem nervous,” Ijuri said gently, trying not to be pushy. McCree snorted, bobbing his head in agreement.

“I _am_ nervous. I’ve done plenty a’ odd jobs before, but, uh,” Jesse rubbed the back of his neck, gaze sliding away in embarrassment, “nothing...nothing ever like this.”

Ijuri looked as surprised at his confession  (well, as surprised as an omnic could look), “Oh? This is your first job as a stripper?”

HE made a face, “Yeah. Not exactly sure if I’m ready for it.”

“Worry not, Jesse.” Ijuri declared, placing her hands on what he assumed were her metal hips, “I’ll be with you every step of the way. Well, not when you’re on the job, but I’m with you now. And if you ever need anything, you can ask me.”

McCree couldn’t help but smile. He admittedly felt a little better, knowing he had somebody who could have his back here. But there was still something tugging at the back of his mind.

“Thanks, darling. I really do appreciate it. But, hey, I’ve got a question for ya—do you know what I’m gonna wear?” HR asked, curious yet hesitant to actually find out. Ijuri shook her head no, and an odd mix of relief and apprehension coursed through him.

“No, but we’ll know soon enough. Our tailors work fast. Most likely, they already know what they have to make, too. Mr. Dave said he already has an idea in mind,” She said, the lights of her sensors glowing with pride, “A friend of mine is one of the tailors. He—and the rest of the team of course—are very good. ”

That was good, he supposed. But that could also very well be bad for him, being that he had no idea what sort of bullshit he’d have to wear on the job.

“Anyway, we should move on to what’s next.” Ijuri instructed. She paused, thinking, then slowly put a hand on Jesse’s forearm, “But you won’t like it, Jesse.”

“.....What is it?”

“Waxing.”

Oh, shit.

JEsse had heard about the horrors of waxing from Angela and Hana multiple times before. Yeah, it was more effective than shaving, and your skin felt all nice and smooth afterwards, but _dear lord,_ the **pain.** Hana had ranted for about an hour about how you could adjust to the pain eventually, but the first time always stung like a bitch. And that it did. Apparently, Dave wanted to murder him, because when the very first strip was yanked off his skin, McCree jolted in pain, shouting the first words that came to mind.

“SON OF A _FUCKING DICKHEAD_ **_SHIT_**.”

Ijuri fucking _laughed_ at him.

Eventually he did adjust, but it still stung like hell. It was funny, because he had dealt with much worse before with a completely straight face, and yet now….well, waxing was not to be trifled with. At one point, after Ijuri had pulled a small strip off his calf and he had made a sound he was 95% sure wasn’t entirely human, McCree couldn’t help but wonder why he had to put up with this. He sat up a bit, wincing at the flare of pain.

“I was wondering,” McCree began, gaining Ijuri’s attention. She turned her face towards him, “why do I have to do this?”

Ijuri stared up at him for a few seconds, not quite catching his drift. Suddenly she perked up, making the omnic equivalent of “ooooOOOhhhh!” when she understood his question.

“Not everybody is required to wax, if that’s what you’re asking.” Ijuri said, smoothing down another strip. McCree braced himself, “From what I can tell, Mr. Dave understands that body hair is a natural part of the human body, but he asks certain dancers to wax. He said it depends on the dancer’s—what was the word?— aesthetic. Basically, it’s part of your assigned look.”

JEsse huffed, scowling slightly. Of _course_ he’d be assigned something that required waxing, because fuck him, right? Thankfully, after she was dome, Ijuri gave him some sort of salve that made the pain disappear faster. With the pain gone, McCree could take stock of his body. PArt of his lower front, legs, and arms had been waxed, but thankfully his face had been spared. According to Ijuri, Dave wanted his facial hair to remain, because “he worked it well”.

“Can’t say I enjoyed that, but _damn_ do my legs feel smooth.” McCree murmured in awe as he ran a hand up and down his leg, finally understanding why Hana did that. His skin felt like goddamn silk! Was this why people willingly waxed/shaved?

As he was fawning over the smoothness, Ijuri handed him a robe, which he shrugged on, and heavens to betsy, the robe felt _amazing_ on his skin. He understood so much more now. After he scooped up his bag, Ijuri led him through a door into an adjacent room that smelled vaguely like chemicals, but in a pleasant way. He looked around the new room, taking in the salonesque feel of it. A red salon chair, complete with a table and a mirror in front of it added to the room’s vibe. The table was covered with cosmetics and hair styling things, and McCree realized that the room was, in fact, a beauty salon of sorts.

‘I won’t be doing much here,” Ijuri said, settling McCree down in the chair. McCree was grateful for that, at least. Clubs could get horribly humid and he wasn’t used to wearing beauty products of any kind, “But I’ll see if there’s anything I need to do to your hair.”

Jesse just closed his eyes as Ijuri ran a brush through his hair. As Ijuri adjusted his brown locks here and there, McCree took some time to think over what he was in for. As a stripper, he’d probably have more mobility to wander around the club than a bartender or a bouncer, and the pay seemed pretty good, so he had that going for him. On the other hand, he didn’t know if he was ready for the other things that came with the job. What would he have to do? What if he ended up busy and couldn’t scope out Talon?

A jolt of realization shot through McCree. Right, he was still on a mission. An important mission, at that. Most likely, he’d probably end up engaging Talon. He could already picture it— pulling one of those poles out of the catwalk and smacking some Talon agent. That would be….. _something_. He was so screwed. Genji, or anybody for that matter, was never going to let him live this down.

He froze. _His team_. He’d be meeting with up with his team throughout the mission. In the club. _On the job_. **_FUCK_** _._ The mortification started swinging in ahead of time, hitting him full force. Thankfully, that train of thought was cut off by a soft ping behind him. He opened his eyes and looked back at Ijuri, who had opened up the panel in her arm. She looked down at a message on the screen. Seconds later, Ijuri was yanking him out of the chair, somehow managing to be gentle yet urgent.

“Your outfit is ready.” Ijuri said, clapping her hands together. She steadied McCree and shepherded him out another door. They stepped out into a hallway in the part of the club sanctioned off for employees only, as Ijuri continued on,“It’s been dropped off in your room, so let’s—”

“My room?” Jesse parroted.

“Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you.” Ijuri said sheepishly, “The dancers have rooms. They aren’t _bedrooms_ , but it’s where you can change and get ready; it’s your room. Typically, there’s two to a room, but you got the one that belonged to the two that left, so it’ll be just you in there. Until somebody else is also hired. But until then, you have it all to yourself!”

McCree nodded, seeing the luck in that. He’d be able to relay information in private, without having to worry about a civilian overhearing. Also, he could mourn his dignity in prvacy. Ijuri ushered him along until they finally reached what must’ve been the dancers’ wing, lined with doors with names on little placards. 

They stepped into a brightly light, well furnished room, which he quickly scanned. Two vanity tables were on opposite sides of the room, with identical chairs and mirrors. A potted plant rested next to a plush red long chair. A mini fridge rested next to what looked like a small pantry, and along one wall was a giant tri fold mirror like the ones you see in changing rooms at the mall. Along another wall was a large-ish booth with a dark purplish blue curtain covering the entrance. There was an open door leading along one wall, opening up into what looked like a bathroom.

All in all, it was a pretty good room, but McCree would have to take a closer look later. It was unlikely, but the room could be bugged. Better safe than sorry, after all.

“Your outfit should be in the changing booth, so go ahead and try it on.” Ijuri gestured towards the booth with the curtain. She buzzed with an excitement McCree was _not_ sharing, “Make sure it fits, alright?”

McCree murmured a confirmation, then slowly approached the booth as if it was some wild beast. He ducked past the curtain, glancing around the inside of the changing room as the curtain slid back into place behind him. A white garment bag on a hanger hung from a hook on the farthest wall, no doubt containing his “uniform”. He took a step forward and paused when his foot hit something. Jesse looked down.

Heels. At his feet lay fancy black heels, with red undersides. They were type of heels you would see a pin up model wearing. Upon closer look, they were also in his size.

McCree swore under his breath. He had to _wear those._ Grumbling, he put the heels aside, and reached for the white bag. There was no way out of this, so he might as well get it over as soon as possible. And hey, maybe it wouldn’t be _that_ bad. He unzipped the bag, then pushed it out of the way to take a look at what he was dealing with.

And stared in mute horror.

_What the hell had he gotten himself into?_

Jesse grinded out every swear word he could think of, and then some. McCree had _thought_ he knew what suffering was. He was wrong— _this_ was suffering. He had to wear **_that_** _?_ McCree didn’t know if the heat in his face was mortification or anger, but he frankly didn’t have the patience to figure it out. He wanted to storm back to base and demand a mission-refund or whatever from Winston.

_“Whatever you do, get a job at that club.”_

Goddammit, Winston.

Jesse inhaled sharply, trying to force his thoughts to cooperate.  _Get it together, McCree. You have a job to do, and it’s_ **_important_.** He forced himself out of his slump, more or less internally yelling at himself until he gave up and accept that he had to put on the damn clothes (did that thing even qualify as clothing?).

He gritted his teeth, bitting back a groan. Well, he supposed, here goes nothing. Aside from, oh, just his dignity. But there was no turning back now, and he’d be damned if he lost a mission just because of an unfortunate uniform.

Jesse snatched the costume angrily and slipped out of the robe. As he shimmied into the outfit, he grumbled under his breath, cursing this stupid mission and stupid Talon. After a couple minutes of getting more and more confused with how to put on the stupid fucking uniform, he figured it out and managed to get the clothing onto his body without tearing it. With that done, Jesse turned towards the heels, glaring at them as if they were the cause of all this.

“Try me, you fancy shmancy little shits,” He growled at the heels (yes, he knew they were inanimate objects, but fuck you) as he stepped into them. He straightened up and immediately nearly collapsed, wobbling uncertainly on the heels. After what was most likely the fifth internal pep talk of the day, Jesse stood up straight, shifting into his new center of balance on the heels.

And finally, it was all done.

He lingered in the booth for a few more seconds, biting at his lower lip. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see what he looked like, but he’d have to get out  _sometime._ Eventually, Jesse took a deep breath, steeled himself, and hesitantly stepped out past the curtain.

The rustle of the curtain got Ijuri’s attention, making the omnic turn towards him, shifting her attention from a long rectangular box in her hands. McCree had enough time to wonder where she had gotten it before Ijuri was gasping and rushing towards him.

“Look at you!” She practically squealed, oddly excited. Jesse flushed, looking askance in embarrassment, and shifted in place, trying to shy away from the attention. It was kinda uncharacteristic of him, but given his current situation, he deserved a pass.

Ijuri quickly crossed the distance between them, opening the box and taking out two long, rounded black objects before he could react. She hurriedly reached up, and it took him a moment to realize that she was clipping the black things into his hair.

“Normally, people wear headbands, but those can fall off really easily. The clips will stay on, so feel free to move around as much as you need.” Ijuri stated, before taking a step back to look over McCree. Her face sensors glowed in a way that indicated she would be smiling if she was human, as she clapped her hands together, “Why don’t you take a look in the mirror?”

Suddenly, Ijuri was dragging him over to the trifold mirror before he could even respond. This was the part he was nervous about—seeing what the full picture looked like. When she gave him a final little push towards the mirror, he stared resolutely at the ground for a few seconds, before taking a deep breath and shuffling closer to it. He looked up, and his brain immediately shut down.

Holy fuck.

It was _him_ in the mirror, but…well, now he knew why the outfit had looked vaguely familiar.

He was dressed like a goddamn _playboy bunny._

The first thing he noticed was the skin-tight, strapless corset, which clung to his pecs, showing off them off as some sort of obscene distraction. The corset alsohighlighted the curve of his waist, making any wandering eyes trace the curve down from his chest to his wide hips. Thin black straps peeled out from under the black teddy, connected to the garter belt around his waist under the corset, and leading down the sides of his legs to around mid thigh. Connected to the straps were fishnet stockings that hugged the curves of his thighs and legs, purposely tight in a way that emphasized his **thick** thighs and long legs. And of course, there were the black, red-bottom heels.

A delicate collar and pair of cuffs with little red details, which matched the underside of the heels, decorated his neck and wrists. At the very top of his head were black bunny ears, attached to hidden hair clips keeping the ears up and in place. His hair fell prettily about his face, completing the whole look nicely.

“Twirl around!” Ijuri chimed, gesturing for him to turn in the mirror. Jesse dazedly complied, his brain too fried to protest, and _oh man, that was even worse._

Attached to the corset was a fluffy white bunny tail far down on his lower back. As his gaze dropped lower, Jesse realized that the corset teddy only covered about a fourth of his ass, laving a mouth watering amount of soft yet firm tan skin on display. The combination of the corset, the garter, and the stockings worked together to drag all wandering eyes down to his ass, legs, and hips.

Jesse slowly turned back to facing forward, all the while staring at the mirror in shock. The distant, professional part of him pointed out that Dave had a good eye; the outfit was designed to show off everything he had going for him. The human part of him, on the other hand, was still thinking _what the hell had he gotten himself into?_

“That’s…..me.” He murmured quietly, continuing to stare at his reflection in shock.

“Yes!” Ijuri squealed enthusiastically, “That’s you!”

Jesse flushed red, unable to form a response. Ijuri darted forward and grabbed his arm, eliciting a totally manly yelp from the cowboy. She quickly dragged him toward the door.

“Wha—?” Jesse exclaimed in surprise as he was promptly pulled out into the hallway, stumbling along in those god-forsaken heels. Every part of him felt exposed and on display, and oh, _shit,_ why did that make heat flare under his skin?

“Come, Mr. Dave has been waiting for you. We must show him!” Ijuri exclaimed, already hauling him out of the strippers’ wing and down an adjacent hallway. Before Jesse could protest, he was already out in the clubbing area, standing in a luxurious side lounge. His head spun as he tried to catch up with how fast everything was happening.

When the world finally came back into focus, McCree caught sight of Dave seated on one of the couches, staring at him with almost the same amount of surprise as he had stared at himself in the mirror with, mouth hanging open and everything.

In Dave’s case, however, the surprise was a pleasant surprise, the type you feel when you find out something you expected to be _good_ was actually _great._

The surprise was gradually replaced with a unmistakable look of interest that caught Jesse off guard, as the businessman scanned his whole body, gaze lingering a little too long. Dave quickly snapped out it, burying it with professional graciousness and resolutely meeting Jesse’s gaze.

“Jesse!” Dave chimed, smiling winningly. “You look good!”

Jesse stared back blankly, and shed a few internal tears. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, pleaaase, leave a kudos and/or a comment if you liked it! K but seriously I'm open to all kinds of feedback.
> 
> Thanks for reading this self-indulgent hot mess!!
> 
> Visit my tumblr: [regret-dot-jpg](https://regret-dot-jpg.tumblr.com/)


	3. First Day On The Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree learns some things about the job, somehow avoids telling his team about it, and starts his first day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all: Can I get uuuhhhhhh another chapter of this steaming pile of shit?  
> Me: YOU SURE FUCKING CAN
> 
> Yall!! 100 kudos! Hell yeah. Thanks for all the wonderful comments and kudos! It means a lot to me. Seriously, thank you so much!! I love reading your comments. It makes my day
> 
> I also have good news and bad news. The bad news: I probably won't be able to update for all of next week bc I'll be busy... I'm super sorry my dudes, but I'll try to work on it.
> 
> The good news (sorta good? depends on what yall think) : I'm open to requests! Like, requests for this fic. Basically, if u want a certain scenario to happen in this fic, lemme know in a comment. If I'm into it, I'll do it! But only if I can work it in there. 
> 
> but srsly guys, leave a request! There’s a pretty good chance i’ll take it.
> 
> Sauciness level of this chapter - a little more but not TRULY saucy....patience, my children...patience...

 

Jesse had never been so happy to be in his own clothes.

After Ijuri had dragged him out and gotten Dave’s approval of the uniform, McCree had been declared free to change out of it. Once he was back in _actual clothing,_ Ijuri had led him back out to discuss more aspects of the job with his new employer. So now McCree was seated across from Dave in a lavish, slightly elevated lounge. 

The location gave McCree another chance to get a good look around the club, which he gladly took advantage of. In the center was a dance floor, flanked by booths, lounges, and tables. Towards the back/front (whichever it was) was a stage/catwalk sort of thing. Miniature versions of of the catwalk were spread out along the sides of the club.

Also spread out amongst the club were a few island bars, stocked with alcohol and candy. The Candy Shop appeared to be living up to its name by means of selling candy, having candy based alcohol, and candy decor. Somehow, the theme they had going managed to be tasteful without going overboard.

“We’ll take care of everything regarding your uniform. Washing it, drying it, all that.” Dave waved his hand, “Your outfit will be kept in your room, so you don’t have to worry about bringing it to and from work, except for the weekends.”

“I reckon that’s one less thing to worry about then. But, erm, earlier you mentioned something about working overtime?” Jesse asked, very much hoping that working overtime wouldn’t be a normal occurrence.

“Oh, overtime? Dancers only have to work overtime if we have very low numbers—which we don’t—or if they choose to.” Dave assured him with a little wave of his hand. Jesse held back a loud sigh of relief, “Working overtime does come with a perk, however: you’ll only have to give us one sixth of what you make during overtime, and you still get paid.”

McCree nodded, storing that information away for later. He didn’t plan on working overtime, but the extra money was definitely a perk. Speaking of the extra money, only one sixth? Jesse didn’t know much about how much money the club needed to run, but one sixth seemed a little low. He’d seen videos of strippers making enough money in one day to overflow a trash bag. Maybe that’d be the case here? The Candy Shop  _was_ pretty high class.

“Well, that’s good and all, but Dave, I’ve been fixin’ to ask you something.” Jesse said a tad nervously, running a hand up and down his thigh. At least he could take comfort in the fact that he was actually wearing pants. “What am I gonna be _doing?_ ”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, like, what am I supposed to do on the job?” Jesse clarified. That was his biggest hang up about his new job. What would he be doing as a stripper? For all he knew, he could just be there to look at. But there was also the chance that he’d be fucking _pole dancing_ or something. He needed to know what he was in for.

Dave took a sip of water, “Well, you’re going to be doing a couple different things, actually. But we’re starting you off with serving the patrons. Think of it like being a waiter. You’ll take the orders of the people not seated at the bars, and relay that information to a bartenders. And, of course, bring the finished orders back to the patrons.”

Okay, okay, good. Jesse had been a waiter before. It was years ago, and he was fired, but in the end it was something he was familiar with. And, hey, this time he wouldn't have to fake an Italian accent (an accent that was _fine_ , thank you very much).

“You’ll be starting with serving as a way to ease you into this job. After that, you may be doing different things each day. Aside from serving, you’ll be giving lap dances or otherwise just entertaining  patrons, giving stage performances, or performing with other dancers on stage. You’ll be rotating between those each shift.” Dave stated casually, as if he hadn’t just signed Jesse’s warrant of death by embarrassment.

“I….what?” He managed to say, brain starting to short circuit at the mere idea of those things.

“Ah, don’t worry about all that just yet. For now,  just focus on being a server.” Dave said appeasingly. Jesse was okay forgetting about all that for now, even though he knew it would probably end up biting him in the ass later. He shoved the panicked internal screaming of “fucking _STAGE PERFORMANCES?_ And what the hell did “performing with other dancers FUCKING MEAN?” aside.

“I have some advice, but it may be a good idea to talk to Ijuri or another dancer as well,  as they probably have a better idea of what it’s like in the field.” Dave said, nodding towards Ijuri, who waved at them, “A ground rule is that if a group seems interested in you, only give them special attention if they give you money. Touching _is_ allowed, but only if they pay you. The one thing you want to remember? If somebody gives you money, reward them. Got all that?”

“Yeah.” McCree mumbled, brain forcibly rebooting itself, “Reward the people who give me money, and they’ll keep doing it.”

“Exactly! Now, regarding your salary, would you like to get full paycheck monthly, or the divided amount daily?”

“Daily would be good.” McCree responded immediately. The mission wouldn’t last an entire month, and Jesse definitely wanted to be paid for this shit. Dave nodded, whipping out his phone and typing something in.

“Alright, we have that cleared up. Your paycheck will be about $400, based of the calculations.”

McCree’s eyebrows shot up. 400 _a day?_ In this job? Goddamn, this _was_ a high end club. This mission suddenly seemed a tad bit better.

“There’s a few more things you should know, but all of _that_ …” Dave procured a pamphlet out of nowhere and handed it to McCree, “...is covered in here. It would be good to know all the standard fees, so make sure to read through it. Other than that, you’re ready!”

Dave slapped his knees with his palms and stood up. McCree followed suit as Dave extended a hand, which confused him for a split second until he realized that he was being offered a handshake. They shook hands, and the businessman stepped back.

“Welcome to the job, Jesse! We’ll see you tomorrow for your first shift. Ijuri here will see you out.” He flashed a Colgate smile at Jesse, before turning on his heel. He walked away, heading down the few steps leading out of the lounge, and shout over his shoulder, “Have a good one!”

As Dave disappeared off to who-knows-where, Ijuri floated up to McCree, the panel in her arm open.

“Would you like me to call a taxi for you Jesse?” She asked, finger hovering centimeters from the screen. Glancing down, Jesse noted that she was already preparing to hit the call button.

He laughed, “You’re always ready, aren’t ya?”

“Yes.”

“Good for me, I s’pose. You can call that taxi. Thanks, Ijuri.” McCree slipped the pamphlet into the black bag. Together, he and Ijuri walked across the club towards the exit.

“Ya know, the salary is a definite plus to the job,” Jesse said as he and Ijuri waited by the doors for his taxi, “but I’m still nervous. You have any wise words of wisdom for lil’ old me?”

Ijuri tilted her head, thinking, “It’s perfectly normal to be nervous for new job, especially the one you have—and I agree about the salary; I’m only a helper, and Mr. Dave pays me well. I think you’ll do good, Jesse. Aside from your attractiveness, you are pleasant to be around, and your accent is very cute.”

Jesse blinked, a slight blush dusting his cheeks.

“Oh. Aww, shucks hon! Where would I be without you?”

Ijuri simply hummed, her sensors glowing a little brighter. He mimed a hat tip at her, to which she responded with a curtsy. Eventually, his taxi pulled up next to the curb outside the club and it was time to go. Jesse bid Ijuri goodbye and headed out to the waiting vehicle. Slipping inside, he smiled in greeting at the young woman behind the wheel and gave her the address to his hotel.

Winston had booked a hotel for him to stay in during his undercover mission. He wouldn’t be staying there for the entire mission, though. He’d head back to base more often than not. But for now, he’d be going to the hotel and clocking out as soon as possible.

 

 

 

McCree has just stepped out of the shower when he saw the way his comm was lighting up. He strided over to the hotel room table and scooped up his comm, taking a look at the screen to see messages. Upon further inspection, he saw that Lúcio had created a team group chat for the mission. Oh, right. His team.

Fuck, okay. They would find out about the whole “stripper” thing eventually, but for now he would try to keep that day as far off as possible. 

Jesse opened the chat.

 

 **> >Lúcio**: hey eastwood! how did it go?

 **> >Genji**: You better have gotten the job.

 **> >McCree**: Not exactly...

 **> >Genji**: wait WHAT?

 

Jesse inhaled sharply. He sat down on the bed, putting all his focus into navigating the group chat. Deflect, McCree, _deflect!_

 

 **> >McCree**: Relax. I got a job there, just not the bartender one.

 **> >Hanzo**: Are you a bouncer?

 **> >Jack**: This is an official mission group message meant only for the mission. Can you all at least try to treat it as such? McCree, did you find out anything?

 

And he was saved by Morrison. He sent the old geezer a silent thank you.

 

 **> >McCree**: Not much. Only the staff was there today. There’s a few side doors that’d be good for sneaking in and out, but I haven’t been able to scope out the area yet.

 **> >Genji**: Don’t get fired

 **> >McCree**: That was ONE TIME.

 **> >Hanzo**: Do you all normally ignore orders from Soldier 76?

 **> >Genji**: Yeah

 **> >Lúcio**: what genji said. and what’s this about Eastwood getting fired?

 

Jesse huffed, a mix between fondness and exasperation, and turned off his comm. He’d leave Genji to embarrassing him with stories from his past. With that done, he fell back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, reflecting on everything that happened that day.

Somehow, he’d gone from being an undercover bartender to an undercover stripper. _An undercover playboy bunny_ , his brain supplied annoyingly. McCree flopped a hand over his eyes, groaning. It hadn’t really hit him until now, but this was going to be his _job._ He would have to do this for, what, two weeks? Not just that, but he’d have to scope out Talon, possibly fight them, and look his teammates in the face dressed like that. He groaned again at the idea of talking to anybody he knew in his “uniform”.

Would he get training for the job? He couldn’t decide whether getting training or not would be worse. What would they even train him for? Wait, no, he had an idea. Lap dances.

This would suck either way. But at least he was getting money for it. Pretty good money, given the job. On top of that, he’d be getting extra money from the clubbers. Speaking of which, he should probably take a look at all the fees in that pamphlet Dave gave him. With a sigh, Jesse sat up and reached for the black bag. Unzipping it, he fished out the pamphlet and flipped it open. The basic gist of the intro was the same thing Dave told him: reward the people who gave him money.

When he was serving, he’d take the money for the drinks from the clubbers and give it to the bartender. Any money he got for himself could be given to the small round bots placed on the bars. The bot would take the money and drop it off in the bag in his room. He remembered the small-ish round topped bots he had seen buzzing about on the bars. Little buggers were actually kind of cute.

Each stripper would have a tiny light up pin that displayed what they were doing that shift. A server’s pin would light up yellow, a performer’s pin light up purple, and so forth. 

Reading on, Jesse found out that, apparently, if clubbers wanted a little more _action_ , they could purchase a private extended session in one of the private rooms. He was 98% sure that at that point, it ouke just be just dry sex. But unless you had a VIP card, the fee for a private extended sessions was pretty goddamn expensive, so he probably wouldn’t have to worry about that.

He spent some more time looking through the pamphlet as he tried to accept that, yup, this was his life now.

Eventually, the fees finally stuck in his brain and he began to feel a little less overwhelmed with the new job. Who knew? The pamphlet specifically designed to explain his job to him would actually be helpful in understanding his job. Weird. He tossed the pamphlet aside, sitting up on the bed. He was going to go shower, brush his teeth, then fall into a sweet, sweet sleep coma.

About thirty minutes later, he was lying in the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about his undercover job. Again. Tomorrow was going to be a fucking roller coaster, wasn’t it? He’d have most of the day to himself, at least. The Candy Shop, being both a strip club and a night club, opened at 7 pm.

“Go the fuck to sleep, dumbass.” Jesse muttered to himsself as he closed his eyes.

 

 

The day passed by fairly quickly, most likely out of nervousness. Jesse roamed around town, checking out the stores and restaurants. He even bought some new clothes, something Hana had been pestering him to do for a long time. It was a nice town, with lots of cafes and shops. Nobody seemed to recognize him, and Jesse realized Ana had been right. People didn’t recognize _him,_ they recognized the serape and the hat.

He showed up to the Candy Shop a bit early in order to get a better look around. As he walked past one of the bars, he noted that one of the bartenders was already getting ready for the club to open. In that case, it was time. Time to get this started, then over with as soon as possible. Jesse remembered the way to his room well enough, so he lead himself there. Soon (too soon, if you asked him), he found himself opening the door to his room with the hand-scanning technology. Standing in his room, he eyed the long white bag hanging in the open-curtained dressing booth.

“Just you and me, bag.” McCree muttered sullenly. He could hear other dancers arriving in the hallway outside as voices called out to each other and shoes click-clacked past his room, reminding him that he didn’t have forever to put on the damn outfit.

McCree drew himself up with a deep breath and marched into the booth. He yanked the curtain closed behind him and slowly opened the bag, confirming that his uniform was still that accursed outfit. Grumbling, Jesse stripped out of his clothes. He pulled on on the garter belt and the fishnet stockings and then shimmied into the tight strapless corset teddy. Sweet _lord_ , everything was so damn _tight._ As he was fiddling with the corset, Jesse discovered a tiny hook hidden under the fluff of the bunny tail. If it was unhooked, the fabric under the tail (the crotch of the corset and the part over his ass) could be detached.  Jesse didn't know why it was designed like that, but it'd probably make taking off the corset easier.

He slapped on the cuffs and the collar, then the bunny ear hair clips. The clips managed to align perfectly thanks to some magnetic technology McCree didn’t even want to try to figure out. Last, of course, were the heels. Those goddamn, motherfucking heels. He slid into those a little too aggressively, wobbled, and then somehow found his balance.

Leaving the dressing room, Jesse stopped by the trifold mirror to make sure he hadn’t put something on backwards. The sight that greeted him once again made him reign in a frustrating blush.

Objectively, one could say he looked pretty damn good. The lean muscles of his waist and stomach curved out prettily into his hips, and, _objectively,_ it was a nice view. The skin tight corset showed off all that and more, including the round swell of his pecs. Not to mention his legs and ass, which looked  _out of this **world**_.

But all these things only served to fluster Jesse as he brushed his hair out of his face, trying to focus on something else. He ran a hand over his trimmed beard, which was really more of a stubble now. At least he hadn't been robbed of it completely when Ana had made him trim it for the interview.

Somebody knocked on the door, tearing McCree’s attention away from the mirror. He walked to the door and opened it, spirits instantly lifting when he saw Ijuri standing in front of him.

“You’re already ready!” Ijuri said enthusiastically. McCree couldn’t help but smile. This was probably going to suck balls, but he'd always have Ijuri.

“Yeah.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “I took way less time to put it on than yesterday. Probably because I already figured out how to put on the damn _belt_ thing.”

“Practice makes perfect, Jesse.” Ijuri attempted to say seriously, “Well, it’s around time to head out. You should meet some of the other dancers!”

“Well, if ya say so…” McCree muttered, still not ready to grasp that this was his _job,_ “What about the rest of them? Are they stuck wearing shit like this?”

“No. Everybody wears a different outfit, and Mr. Dave picks out different types of dancers to cater to different types of patrons. Among the male dancers, the category is essentially divided between, uh,” Ijuri paused, turning her face away slightly. If omnics could blush, she’d be blushing, “penetrating and non-penetrating?”

McCree blinked, processing the words.

He immediately repressed the memory of ever hearing Ijuri say that.

“Let’s just head out.” Jesse murmured, stepping out and closing the door behind him. Almost immediately, he caught sight of a few other dancers. A “nurse” walked past, talking to a girl dressed in the generic stripper outfit. Further down, McCree caught sight of what Ijuri meant when she was talking about different categories among the males.

A tall, muscular man dressed like a cop leaned against the wall. He wore suggestively low-slung black pants, an open sleeveless shirt with police badges, the stereotypical police hat, and a belt with handcuffs dangling from it. The most noticeable feature, however, was the size of the bulge in the man's tight pants. He was obviously categorized into “penetrating”, as Ijuri had so eloquently put it.

The cop looked up just in time to make eye contact with Jesse. Jesse almost reflexively reached up to tip his hat, but froze when the man’s gaze fell. Cop-guy scanned McCree’s whole body with an approving gaze. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to pointedly look him in the eye.

The man grinned, winked, and sauntered off down the hallway.

Jesse reddened slightly.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to that.” Ijuri remarked, patting McCree on the back.

 

 

Jesse leaned back against the bar, slowly scanning the crowd. Talon wasn’t supposed to be here today, but Talon was a slippery little shit. Better safe than sorry, after all, so he still kept an eye out. He turned to one of the bartenders, a Korean man with a nice smile, working at the large bar he was leaning against.

“I’m not seeing any lights yet. You seeing anything?” McCree asked him. The bartender shook his head no after quickly checking the panel on the inside wall of the bar. The tables, booths, and lounges all had a blue button-looking-thing that would light up whenever they wanted to be served. The bars had a panel of lights that would light up accordingly. Whoever designed this club had some nice ideas, because it helped everything move along much smoother.

“No, but that’s normal. Around this time, people tend to just come over to the bar.” Daniel, according to his name tag, said, “But the tide will start to shift right around now.”

McCree hadn’t actually done anything yet. All he’d done so far was just walk around looking for the telltale light, but everybody had been ordering at the bars. He did notice plenty of wandering gazes though, but those had all quickly turned disappointed when they saw the yellow glow of a tiny server’s pin on his collar. Further down the bar was one of those people, but the server status didn’t stop the man from ogling McCree. McCree wondered if he was allowed to throw things at clubbers.

The energy in the club was steadily climbing, blue and purple lights flashing over the entire area. The dance floor was slowly filling up as the dj blasted a song with a catchy beat, the bass pumping through the floor.

Suddenly, one of the lights at a round lounge lit up. McCree jumped, mildly startled. Glancing around, he realized he was the closest server. 

“Take these, just in case.” Daniel said, sliding Jesse a notepad and pen from across the bar. McCree apprehensively took them and stared at the blue light waiting for him. He set off towards the booth, heels clicking on the floor as he walked. The booth gradually got closer, until he was finally a few feet away from the booth. Well, here goes nothing.

Jesse walked up to the booth.

“Hey there. What can I get for y’all?” McCree asked. All three men in the booth turned to look at him and three pairs of eyes instantly scanned his entire body. The man closest, sporting a flashy Rolex Watch, leaned forward and smiled at Jesse flirtatiously.

“Oh, babe, there’s a lot of things I wanna get right now.” Rolex cooed. Jesse didn’t need clarification to get what he was saying, “Never thought I'd get to see a Playboy bunny in person.”

Another guy, decked out in an expensive looking leather jacket, took out a 20 and beckoned Jesse closer. He obliged, trying to hide his nervousness. When Jesse was close enough, Leather Jacket pulled back the top of a fishnet, almost making Jesse jump in surprise. He slid the 20 halfway into the stocking, then let the top snap back against his thigh, pinning the bill in place. Jesse watched all of this happen, feeling like everything had suddenly became surreal.

“How about after you get our drinks, you hang with us for a bit?” Leather Jacket murmured, placing a hand on McCree’s waist to drag him closer.

“O-oh, sure, sugar.” Using the pet name was automatic, not on purpose, but Leather Jacket and his friends seemed to like it. Leather Jacket grinned and squeezed his hip appreciatively.

“Well, I’ll order for all of us.” Another one in a red shirt said, waving a credit card between two fingers, “One Sazerac, one lemon drop martini, and one rum and coke with gummies. I’ll pay. But that means you guys are paying for everything else.”

Red Shirt pointedly looked at his friends as Jesse scribbled down the order. He turned his attention back to Jesse with a flirty smile and extended his card towards him. Jesse took the card and Leather Jacket dropped his hand. When he turned to leave and get the drinks, somebody wolf-whistled loudly, and he resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands.

At the bar, he dazedly relayed the order to the bartenders and slid them the credit card. As he waited for the bartenders to finish making the drinks, Jesse snapped out of his daze, blinking rapidly. What the  _ **fuck** _ just happened? Was this real life? He felt as lost as last year’s Golden Easter egg.

He pulled the 20 from the top of his stocking and slid it into one of the little bots. After quickly scanning his fingerprint, the bot lifted off and flew away towards his room, soaring above the crowd. Jesse watched the bot soar away.

A bartender slid a black tray laden with the drinks towards McCree, pulling him out of his thoughts. Jesse picked up the tray and balanced it on one hand, the pen, notepad, and credit card in the other.

“Good lord.” Jesse muttered to himself as he walked back to the booth, carrying the tray. This was going to be one long mission.

Leather Jacket saw him coming and let out a whoop at the sight of the incoming drinks. At their booth, McCree held out the tray and let the men grab whichever drink was theirs. Now he had to "hang with them", whatever that meant. He set down the tray on the low coffee table, comsidering asking Leather Jacket what he had meant. Suddenly, he felt somebody slip a few bills into the top of his fishnets, finger tips grazing his thighs. He turned in surprise, just in time for Rolex to grab him and pull him down onto his lap.

Unable to help himself, McCree let out a totally manly yelp of surprise as he threw an arm over Rolex’s shoulder to catch himself. He landed with a slight thud, seated neatly sideways on Rolex's lap, and tried not to freeze up in shock. When was the last time he had sat on somebody’s lap? Had he _e_ _ver_ sat on anybody’s lap? Apparently, his tall height did nothing to dissuade the amount of thirst currently being aime his way by the man whose lap he was on. At least, with the way he was sitting sideways, he wasn’t directly on Rolex’s crotch.

Jesse shifted, jolting when he felt Rolex’s hand come down on his lower back.

Rolex chuckled, “Cute. So, are you new here? Haven’t seen your pretty face before.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m new here.” He responded, keenly aware of how close Rolex was. He nervously ran a hand through a lock of his hair, “First day, actually.”

“Wait, really?” Leather Jacket said, sounding genuinely surprised for a moment. McCree turned his torso towards Leather Jacket, who got over his surprise soon enough. Leather Jacket was contemplatively silent for a moment, grinned, then took out his wallet and pulled out a bill. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the number on the dollar bill— a _fucking 50._ Leather Jacket leaned towards Jesse and oh so slowly tucked the 50 into the dip of the corset’s heart shaped neckline, snugly right between his pecs. 

“Welcome to the Candy Shop, sweetheart.” Leather Jacket purred. Jesse opened and closed his mouth, struggling to form a coherent thought because of his sheer shock. Behind him, Rolex’s hand suddenly dropped down to his ass, making him jump.

The man chuckled in his ear when he jumped in surprise, squeezing his ass lightly.

Yeah, this was going to be a  _super_ long mission.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes i uhhhhhhhhh don't really know what would be considered a good salary but i know strippers typically don't make as much as Jesse is but shhhhh.
> 
> Also, for anybody wondering why everything below the lower back of McCree's corset is detachable.....take a guess ;). You'll find out in a few chapters anyway ;)))). 
> 
> Remember to leave a request if you have one!! Please, pleaaase, leave a kudos and/or a comment if you liked it! K but seriously I'm open to all kinds of feedback.
> 
> Thanks for reading this self-indulgent hot mess!!
> 
> Visit my tumblr: [regret-dot-jpg](https://regret-dot-jpg.tumblr.com/)


	4. This Is A Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things change in McCree's job, and the moment he's been dreading finally arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, actually rising from the dead:eeeeeeEEEYYYYY guess who's back, back AGAIN  
>  ~~get ready for some long ass notes~~
> 
> Hey yall! I'm back! Thank you for waiting a week for my dumb ass to finally upload a new chapter! I was super busy last week, but whenever I had time, _dear lord_ I was on the fucking _grind_ for this chapter! AND, I also made it longer than usual to make up for the wait. Goddamn, do my fingers hurt. And guess what?
> 
> The moment yall have been waiting for is here. You know what I'm talking about.
> 
> AND YALL, HOLY SHIT, CHECK THIS OUT: RookieDrawer drew such an amazingly cute [drawing](https://rookie-dea.deviantart.com/art/Bunny-Mccree-748719439)!!! IT'S SO CUTE i love it!!
> 
> ALSO, **_ANNOUNCEMENT TIME!!!!!!_** I'm super hyped to announce that I'm going to do McGenji Week 2018 this year!!! I'M SO FUCKING EXCITED!!!! I wasn't able to do Peapod McHanzo week this year bc I hadn't actually hadn't gotten involved in this fandom then (confession time: this is actually my first fic in this fandom). I just, ugh, I'm so DAMN EXCITED HOLY SHIT!!! I was looking at the prompts and I already have so many ideas!!!! I'll probably post them on my tumblr. And it's also my first time _ever_ doing something like it so I hope I don't fuck it up WOO
> 
> OH and also **keep leaving requests**!!! I may not do your request right away bc of the general plot outline I set up, but if I like your request I WILL do it!!!!!!
> 
> Sorry for the long ass notes lmao. I just really like talking to you guys  
> 

McCree trudged back to his room, set on washing his leg as soon as possible. The outside of his left thigh was still sticky from when some guy had “accidentally” spilled his drink on Jesse and then “generously” offered to clean it off with his tongue. Yeah, that had been a hard pass.

Jesse had just finished his third day (night, technically). After his very first time serving on his first day, he’d been a little more careful. He took special care to not get pulled into random guys’ laps. It was more difficult than it sounded, but he had managed to avoid it. He hadn’t always escaped unscathed, though, which was evident by the sticky spot on his thigh. But overall, the job wasn’t that bad (yet). He was basically just a waiter.

A rather skimpily dressed waiter, but oh well. McCree was starting to get used to the general...tight-and-revealing-ness of the outfit, but he hadn’t exactly adjusted to the over-the-top flirting and wandering hands.

He was broken out of his thoughts by Ijuri, who floated up to him holding a moist towelette.

“I saw what happened with the man spilling his drink on you.” Ijuri explained as she offered the towelette to him.

“Sweet baby lord, Ijuri, bless your heart.” Jesse said gratefully as he took the towelette and swiped at the stickiness. Once it was gone, he tossed the towelette into a nearby trash can. Jesse opened the door to his room and immediately kicked his heels off into the room. He stood back and held the door open for Ijuri as she floated in.

“I’m afraid I must also be the bearer of bad news. But it may not necessarily be bad, though.” Ijuri said as Jesse opened the door to his room. He turned towards Ijuri, looking rather suspicious. But given his experience of this undercover mission, his suspicion wasn’t unwarranted.

“Define ‘bad news’.” Jesse prompted, looking at Ijuri suspiciously. Given his experience here so far, the suspicion wasn’t unwarranted.

“Mr. Dave told me you won’t be actually working tomorrow, but you still have to come in.” Ijuri stated. McCree nodded, continuing on with his post-work routine with developing ease. He plunked down at the vanity, fiddling with the cuffs on his wrists. Once those were off, he started taking off the collar.

“Did he say what I’m doing?”

“No,” Ijuri admitted, “he didn’t. Mr. Dave can be...spontaneous. He can change his plans rather fast.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Jesse muttered, gesturing down at his uniform, which _originally_ was supposed to be something completely different. Ignoring Ijuri’s stifled laughter, he reached up and took off the bunny ear hair clips, dropping them next to the cuffs and collar on the vanity’s table

“But do ya have any idea _why_ _?_ ” McCree asked as he opened the table’s drawer, taking out a hair tie (he’d started to carry those things around, being that he’d grown out his hair and all that). He twisted in his seat to look at Ijuri as he pulled his hair back into a low ponytail.

“Also no.” Ijuri shook her head, “I wish I knew, but I suppose we’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Fair enough.” Jesse said with a shrug. He stood up, and after grabbing the bag with his clothes in it, headed into the changing booth to change out of his uniform. Maybe he should’ve been more concerned about why Dave called him in early, but he was low on energy at the moment. Inside the changing booth, Jesse stripped off the outfit and put on his own, then slipped the uniform into an awaiting what garment bag.

Stepping outside, he scooped up the uniform’s accessories laid out on the vanity and dumped them into the garment bag. That done, he handed the bag to Ijuri, who handled it much more gently than McCree. Hey, in his defense, she didn’t have to wear the damn thing.

After Ijuri chimed another reminder to come in early tomorrow, they exchanged their goodbyes in the hallway outside, then headed separate ways–Jesse to his cab outside and Ijuri to the tailors to drop off the uniform.

 

 

Ten minutes later, Jesse was finally back in the main lobby of his hotel. Not only was the hotel pretty close to the club, but it was also decorated lavishly, complete with a fancy big ass chandelier in the lobby. After waving a hello at the front desk staff, Jesse entered the elevator and let it carry him up to his floor.  He blinked the weariness away, trying to figure out if he was sleepy or tired. Tired, he figured, but slowly becoming sleepiness, as the elevator doors opened with a ping.

Jesse trudged down the hallway towards his room. At the door, he jabbed the keycard into the little slot and slipped into his room.

He immediately hopped into the shower for a quick wash, though it was mostly to insure that all the alcohol was washed off his leg. Once that and all the obligatory night routine things were done, he settled in against the headboard of his bed to flip through the tv’s channels. As he finally decided on a surprisingly riveting program about Amazonian wildlife, Jesse couldn’t help but wonder what was in store for him tomorrow. If he wasn’t working, what else would he be doing there?

It probably couldn’t be anything too bad.

 

When Jesse pulled up to the Candy Shop the next day, Dave was already waiting for him in the lobby, rocking back and forth on his heels idly. When he caught of sight of the cowboy in incognito, Dave snapped to attention.

“Jesse, how are you?” Dave asked, suddenly in front of Jesse and grinning brightly, “How’s the job been treating you?”

“I’m good,” Jesse said, defaulting to the generic response to these types of questions (But really, how often were you completely honest with your employer?), “The job’s been good, but I’m still, uh, adjusting.”

“That’s good, that’s good.” Dave said, bobbing his head, “Ijuri says you’ve been doing great so far, so that’s perfect! Now, you’re probably wondering what you’re doing today, if not working. Well, if you’ll follow me I’ll let you in on that.”

A few minutes later, McCree was standing in a dance studio-esque room and staring at Dave in mute horror.

“Training...for _intimate_ dances?” McCree parroted. Dave nodded casually, as if he hadn’t just condemned McCree. The sinking feeling in his stomach quickly shifted into a plummeting feeling.

“One of our other dancers, Jamila, has taken a few days off, so we need somebody to fill in her spot. I understand that you’ve only worked as a server so far, but I’m afraid you’ll have to jump up a few notches from here on out. Think of it this way– congratulations! You’ve graduated from serving!”

Jesse blinked.

Dave gestured around the room with a wide sweep of his arm, “And _this_ is our dancing studio. You'll be using it during training.”

Jesse reflexively looked around the room, taking in details he had been too shocked to notice. The entirety of one wall was just a giant mirror. In the center of the room was a dummy seated on a chair, and towards the left  of the room was a metal pole running from floor to ceiling.

“You should get used to dancing in uniform. There’s a changing room to the left. Go get changed and your instructor should be here by the time you’re done.” Dave grabbed a familiar garment bag off a hook on the wall and handed it to him.

Jesse took the bag numbly. He stared down at it for a few seconds, then, finally, resigned himself to his fate. He shuffled into the changing room and threw on his playboy bunny uniform unthinkingly. McCree took a few hesitant steps out of the changing room, heading towards Dave and the new arrival.

The new arrival was a woman wearing a tank top and black yoga pants and basically just giving off those dance instructor vibes...even if it was a different type of “dance”. Dave and the mystery woman were engaged in a conversation but when Dave caught sight of McCree, he faltered, breaking off suddenly. Jesse had just enough time to be concerned/curious before Dave was blurting out a goodbye and rushing out of the room. Weird.

The woman suddenly turned towards McCree and visibly scanned him in a way that couldn’t be anything but clinical. Whatever she saw, she approved of it, and nodded. McCree wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be reassuring or nerve-racking.

“I’m assuming you are Jesse?” The woman stated, more than asked, “I am Natasha. I’m your private instructor for the more intimate part of this job.”

“Er, howdy.” McCree said, unsure of what to do, “This is “training”, right? For…..intimate dances?”

“Yes.” Natasha said, wondering where Jesse was going with this.

“...In **_these_** heels?” Jesse questioned incredulously, gesturing down at the **high heels** that had **thin ass** heels. Natasha scoffed humorously.

“Everybody says that.” She said, shaking her head, “Believe me, you’ll adjust.”

“How are ya even gonna _train_ me for this?”

“First you can demo on the dummy and show me what you know.” Natasha gestured towards the suddenly less innocent looking dummy, “While giving a lapdance requires practice, it can be easier than you expect. A large part of it essentially follows the same motions as sex, but with more grinding.”

McCree just stared at her, hoping that maybe Dave would suddenly pop in with a camera yelling _“Hah! You just got pranked!”_ or some bullshit like that. It didn’t happen.

“Great.” Jesse muttered, turning to glare at the dummy. Natasha shooed him towards it, telling to get on with it already. Jesse took a deep breath, then swung a leg over the dummy’s lap and sat down.

On the drive back to the hotel, McCree could admit this: Natasha had been right. It came easier than expected. But of _course_ it didn’t end there. Jesse McCree finally realized that the universe had a personal vendetta against him, because not only did Natasha ask him to try it again and again, she made him try out “new techniques”. And to make everything infinitely worse, she introduced him to something he had been avoiding for days.

The pole.

He hadn’t been roped into doing much with it. Most of the session was Natasha yelling at him to grind down harder on an inanimate object, but McCree was definitely reconsidering storming back to base and hurling a chair at Winston, but he knew Winston wasn’t to blame. Dave was. But he couldn’t exactly yell at Dave, because he’d be fired, or at the very least lose a large chunk of his paycheck which was the only good part of the job.

Given the way McCree was rubbing at the soreness on the inside of his thigh ( “The soreness will go away with practice, Jesse!”) on the way to his hotel, his taxi driver probably had a few questions.

 

 

Halfway through scarfing down some spaghetti he’d gotten from a nearby restaurant, McCree’s comm chimed with the telltale tone of a message.Tossing the fork aside, he picked up his comm and took a look. The incoming messages were from the mission groupchat and surprisingly enough, it was Jack who instigated the conversation.

 

>> **Jack** : Did you catch sight of Talon today McCree?

>> **McCree** : Nah. nothing at all so far. It was kinda boring.

>> **Genji** : well, you’ll get some action soon enough. Talon’s meeting somebody at the club tomorrow

>> **Lucio** : we’re gonna see you in action eastwood! i better be impressed.

 

McCree was halfway through typing his response when he hit a hard pause. He blinked, then reread Lucio’s message again. Everything froze as the true meaning of of the words slapped him in the face.

Talon was going to be holding some sort of deal at the Candy Shop tomorrow. That meant his team was going to infiltrate the club tomorrow _._ He was going to meet up with his team and monitor a dangerous Talon deal. While he was working.

McCree stared at the screen with mounting distress as the truth of his situation smacked him across the face with a metal baseball bat. Repeatedly. They were going to stop by **_while he was WORKING_ ** _._ _**IN UNIFORM.**_ The desperate part of him (all of him) briefly wondered if there was some way to convince them not to come.

_Oh, no, you don’t need to keep an eye on the extremely dangerous enemy organization tomorrow. Why? Oh, no reason. Just thought Talon could use a break._

Yeah, okay, nobody was going to fall for that, and this was an important mission. He couldn’t sacrifice it for his pride, but **_goddamn_ ** did he want to. Jesse had forgotten all about it in the busy whirlwind of adjusting to his new job. Speaking of which….McCree stiffened. He wasn’t just serving anymore. No, no, he was _really_ doing the job now. Fucking _lapdances._

Jesse turned over and sank his face into a pillow, muffling a defeated groan. He could already feel the crippling humiliation. How the fuck was he supposed to have a serious conversation with any of them while he was a) dressed like that and b) grinding on some random guy?

To make matters worse, they all probably still thought he was a bouncer. If McCree thought he had been nervous the night before his first day, that was nothing compared to now. Grumbling, he reached for his comm to check the messages he had missed while having his little panic-fest.

 

>> **Lucio** : hey, you there?

>> **Genji** : He’s not responding bc he knows he sucks at his job

>> **Hanzo** : Somehow I do not doubt that.

 

What now? McCree knew it would be better to just rip the metaphorical bandaid off now, but he sure as hell didn’t want to.

 

>> **McCree** : Can’t exactly promise yall will be impressed…

>> **Hanzo** : Excuses.

>> **Jack** : We’re supposed to be professionals.

>> **Genji** : you serious? This is the most professional I’ve been in years.

>> **Jack** : I’m ignoring that. McCree. We’re getting to the club at around 9:30. Where do you want to meet us?

 

McCree didn’t want to meet them at all, if he was being honest. But he’d just try to hold it off as long as he could. Or until he was ready, which would be never.

 

>> **McCree** : Just come in and sit down. Message me when you get there. I’ll find ya.

>> **Lucio** : sounds good. See you tomorrow!

 

Jesse set down his comm with a defeated sigh. He turned towards the rest of the spaghetti– there really wasn’t much left and he didn’t have an appetite anymore, so he’d just save that for later. After taking care of the takeout, he brushed his teeth rather aggressively–he needed an outlet– and stormed back to bed. He collapsed onto the mattress and stared up at the ceiling.

Tomorrow, he’d see his teammates during his shift. Tomorrow, he’d lose what little dignity he had left. McCree swore at the ceiling a few more times for good measure, even though his eyelids were beginning to droop. Despite his hesitancy to start the next day, he soon found himself drifting off into sleep.

 

 

McCree woke up the next morning feeling better, until he remembered. He let out one continuous disgruntled groan as he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up with a huff. He ran a hand through his hair; he was hesitant to start his day.

Starting the day would eventually bring about what would probably be the _most_ embarrassing moment of his life. But he couldn’t spend the entire day couped up in here. The nervous energy would drive him up the wall. Well, he knew for sure he’d go down to eat breakfast. After that…Jesse reviewed his options as he brushed his teeth. Maybe he could explore the city a bit more? It was always a good idea to know your surroundings.

With that plan in mind, McCree changed into a simple pair of pants and a shirt and headed downstairs. Around lunchtime Jesse suddenly realized it was Friday, and because he didn’t work weekends, he would get to go back to base tonight. On one hand, that was great: he wouldn’t have to do this for two days and he’d get to hang around base. But on the other hand…

Everybody roomed at base if they weren’t out on a mission or something like that. So for two full days he wouldn’t be able to hide from his teammates, who would know by then. Jesse kicked at a pebble, which bounced away and startled a pigeon.

Jesse spent the rest of the day walking around the city as he tried to ignore his impending doom. Of course, with his luck, said doom arrived much quicker than expected, and soon enough he was dubiously pushing open the door to his room.

Jesse unzipped the garment bag and yanked out the uniform, but paused when he noticed something new. The light of the pin on his collar was red, instead of the yellow he had gotten used to. In a flash, Jesse realized it was the change in job status. Earlier it was a yellow for serving, but now it was red for “anything”. The reminder made McCree scowl in annoyance. At least the red matched the red bottom heels.

“Jesse, you left the door unlocked.” A sudden voice startled McCree out of his thoughts.

He jumped and whirled around, reaching for his bag, which currently had Peacekeeper inside it, but stopped when he saw who it was. Ijuri was peeking in through the half open door, head tilted in curiosity.

“Heavens to Betsy, Ijuri, don’t scare a man like that,” McCree gasped, feeling his body come down from sudden surge of adrenaline.

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked.” Ijuri shot back, hitting peak mother hen-ness. She moved into the room, pointedly locking the door behind her.

McCree was about to toss out a joke about locking doors, when he realized just how dumb he was. There was supposedly going to be a Talon dealing here today and he had left the door _unlocked._ Nice.

“I’ll keep that in mind sugar.” Jesse scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, “Don’t ya worry about me. _I_ have to worry about me.”

Ijuri tilted her head in brief confusion, but seemed to get what he was saying soon enough.  She looked down at the red pin on the collar in McCree’s hands.

“I’m sorry about that. I would have convinced Mr. Dave otherwise if I knew, but…”

Jesse waved her off, “I’d havta do it eventually anyway.”

“Are you sure? You’re really being thrown into the deep end right now.” Ijuri fussed. Jesse was being thrown into the deep end in more ways than one, but Ijuri didn’t know about that.

“It’s fine, Ijuri. Don’t blame yourself or anythin’ like that. You’re like my light in the darkness, hon.”

McCree patted Ijuri’s shoulder, then ducked into the changing room. He stared at the garter belt, secretly wishing for it to turn to ash in his hands. _No_ , McCree thought, _stop being a bitch._ He was still on mission, despite his own personal feelings about it.

He had just missed the most basic requirement on an undercover mission: locking the damn door. He couldn’t slip up again. Sure, this was going to _suck_ **_ass_ ** _,_ but he was doing this for a reason. This was important. Jesse had to focus on the mission. If he could just hold on to that, he’d deal with his team when they came.

Alright, then. For the mission. He put on the uniform and exited the changing room with a new resolve. McCree quickly stopped by the mirror to make sure everything was on right, then turned towards Ijuri.

“I’m ready. Let’s head out.”

“You seem determined,” Ijuri noted as they stepped out into the hallway, “That’s good! That can help with confidence. You’ll be great at the, um, intimate dances. And, hey! Your pin matches your uniform now!”

McCree snickered at Ijuri’s sweet attempt at consoling him, “Thanks, I s’pose. I noticed the pin thing too.”

The two of them hovered by the entrance of employees only section a bit longer. Jesse scanned the clubbers trickling in with a watchful eye, looking for anybody who looked like they were here for something other than getting drunk and a bump n’ grind. There _was_ the chance that Talon wouldn’t show up at all, but he honestly didn’t know what would happen. Eventually, he knew it was time to go out there and look around.

“Well, I guess I gotta head out there now.” Jesse sighed, running a hand through his hair. Ijuri gave him two enthusiastic thumbs up.

“Good luck! Your hair looks great! And so does the rest of you.”

Jesse chuckled, shaking his head as he walked out into the club.

“Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll see ya later.” McCree waved back at Ijuri over his shoulder.  Once she was out of earshot, he muttered to himself.

“ **Fuck** my life.”

 

Genji deployed his shuriken and mimed throwing them at the Orca’s wall. Satisfied with the movement, he slid the shuriken back into the slot in his arm.

“You’ve been doing that for _the last fifteen minutes._ ” Lucio admonished, shooting Genji a teasing grin.

“Uh, _yes,_ because I want to make sure this suit jacket doesn’t get in the way.” Genji pointedly did it one more time.

The team was on their way towards the Candy Shop, already decked out in their undercover clubbing outfits. In an effort to fit in at the generally high end club, the entire team had been given casually expensive looking clothes, that according to Hana, looked “damn good”.

Genji himself had gone helmet-less (there were very few scars on his face, and even those had faded with time), leaving his face and hair visible. He and Hanzo wore suit jackets that would’ve almost completely matched had it not been for the different color schemes. Hanzo wore black with blue accents while Genji wore black with green accents.

Jack had been forced into a nice black blazer with a white dress shirt–traditional but still good. It had taken a while, but they had convinced him to replace his usual red visor with something less….intimidating. Lucio wore a black vest over a white dress shirt with slacks with bronze accents. He was still wearing his skates, but somehow he made it work.

Apparently, recall-Overwatch had also hired a fashion designer.

“These outfits were specifically designed to not get in the way, were they not?.” Hanzo said as he inspected the tip of an arrow.

They weren’t planning on carrying their weapons around in plain sight in club, but everybody wanted to be prepared just in case.

“What’s your point?” Genji raised his eyebrows.

“His _point_ is that you shouldn’t try to shred the sleeves on purpose.” Jack muttered gruffly, arms crossed as he leaned back in his seat. Hanzo had a feeling 76 was still embarrassed from the playful but well meaning compliments from the younger teammates about Jack’s outfit. Genji waved Jack off with an eye roll.

“I am doing no such thing.”

“Oi, you lot!” Lena shouted from the cockpit of the plane, “We’re landing in ten.”

“Already?” Lucio asked, tapping his foot against the ground.

“Yup! So you better start getting ready.” Lena chimed, looking back over her shoulder at them. Jack sat up and leaned forward, shifting from disgruntled dad to soldier as he prepared for briefing the team one more time before the mission actually started.

“Remember, there’s a 50-50 chance on Talon actually being there. Keep your eyes peeled no matter what.”

“Any word from Jesse?” Genji asked.

“No.” Lucio shook his head, “Eastwood hasn’t texted. I have his earpiece, though. Everybody have theirs?”

Everybody nodded.

“So McCree has not found anything yet.” Hanzo concluded, “Either way, he will come to us when we get there.”

“That’s kinda weird, isn’t it?” Lucio tilted his head, “You think he’d tell us to come to him.”

“He’s busy.” Jack assumed with a shrug, “Just focus on the mission.”

“Jesse’s coming back to base with us after work.” Genji followed up, “He won’t be working weekends.”

“If the mission goes smoothly.” Hanzo pointed out.

“Way to be positive, Hanzo.”

A few minutes later, Lena was landing the Orca in a secluded parking lot past some empty alley. She informed them she’d be picking them up in a few hours, wished them luck, then disappeared back into the plane to take off to the sky. The team briefly watched the Orca fly off, then promptly walked down the alley. They exited out onto a bustling avenue reminiscent of downtown Las Vegas, what with the bright lights, clubs, and other attractions.

“This place has _great_ nightlife.” Lucio remarked appreciatively, doing a 360. Genji nodded wordlessly, looking around almost reverently at the bright streets. Jack and Hanzo, both Mr. I-have-no-social-life, said nothing. They didn’t really have a basis to compare this too, but even they knew that this area was teeming with life.

As they turned a corner, they gained sight of the Candy Shop a few buildings down. The club was almost impossible to miss, given its giant neon sign and general aura of energy. It had an exterior design that looked like the perfect balance between high class and gaudy, concocted specifically to garner attention and business. There was a line waiting at the door, awash with the lights from the club.

The team instantly switched into mission mode, walking towards the club in a brisk but outwardly casual pace. They settled into the line, which was moving faster than it looked like. Hanzo eyed the gaggle of young 20-somethings behind them, feeling very much out of place. He had done plenty of club infiltrations over the year, but he had never _really_ adapted to the clubbing lifestyle. Genji, on the other hand, was lowkey having the time of his life. He truly cherished his newfound inner peace, but Nepal did _not_ have any clubs. And now he was actually happy enough to enjoy this, even though they were on a mission.

Genji quickly picked up on Hanzo’s discomfort and grinned at his brother’s expense. Hanzo made a face and then fished out his comm. He decided to give his hands something to do as he typed out a message to McCree.

“I’ve informed McCree we’re in the line outside.” Hanzo announced once the message once sent, “Hopefully he’ll be ready for us by the time we’re in.”

“Is he one of the bouncers by the entrance?” Genji wondered aloud, stepping out of line to take look, “No, he’s not. Now that I think about it, we never confirmed what job he has here.”

“He’s probably just a bouncer inside the club.” Jack remarked gruffly, just as mildly uncomfortable as Hanzo. Genji tilted his head in a “we’ll see” manner.

“We’ll be in soon anyway.” Lucio said, leaning around the people in front of him to look at the approaching door. He was right about that, because within a few minutes, they were being ushered into the club by a bouncer. They walked through the lobby, which was inhabited by people who were waiting for their friends, waiting to be picked up, or already completely plastered. Hanzo awkwardly side stepped around a drunk woman crying over a video of a sunflower sprouting (“It’s **_growing_ ** _!_ ”).

When they finally entered the main room of the club, the group took a moment to take it in. Blue and purple lights flooded the crowded dance floor in the center of room. Behind it, at the back, was a stage with a catwalk extending partially into the dance floor.

Scattered around the room were lavish bars, lounges, booths, and tables, many of which were already occupied. Many of the lounges and booths had tables with glowing LED edges, making the whole club pop with life. Candy based decor was sprinkled here and there, as well as some drinks that appeared to be candy based; the club was definitely living up to its name.

But perhaps the most noticeable thing were the strippers. The majority of them were dressed revealing outfits that showed off each individual stripper’s best physical quality. Along the sides of the club were smaller catwalks with poles at the end, some of which were already inhabited by performing dancers.

“Lucio,” Jack turned towards the young man in question. Lucio straightened up in attention, “Grab us a place to sit. We’ll tell McCree to meet us there.”

“Gotcha. One lounge, coming right up!” Lucio gave a two fingered salute and skated off. He ducked and weaved through the crowd, until finally, he plunked down on a seat in an open lounge and waved them over. The lounge was a good fit for the mission, being that the sofa chairs were arranged circularly so it would make getting a 360 view of the club much easier.

The rest of the team followed after him, focused on blending in with the crowd and keeping an eye out. Once they sat down in the lounge, they remained there, both to give off the appearance of a group settling in and also to wait for Jesse.

“Sending the message?” Lucio asked/prompted, shifting his seat. Hanzo nodded, already typing away on his comm.

 

>> **Hanzo** : We’re seated in a lounge about fifteen feet from the dancefloor

 

And now, they waited.

“This place has some really good looking drinks.” Genji commented idly, eying a drink in another clubber’s hand. The drink was a pretty pink-yellow, with candied fruit resting at the bottom and a lemon gummy split over the rim. While Genji didn’t _need_ to eat as much as everybody else, he still could and his taste buds were intact, so the drink looked _incredibly_ appetizing.

“I thought you were going to say something else.” Hanzo muttered. Genji blinked, sending Hanzo a confused look. He finally caught Hanzo’s drift when a pretty “nurse” walked by and winked at him. Genji whirled towards his brother, mouth dropping open.

“Brother, was that _humor?_ ”

“....Perhaps.”

The next couple of minutes passed like that, with them talking amongst themselves and casually scanning the club as they waited However, Jack (and everybody else, for that matter) soon grew restless as there was no sign of Jesse.

“Where the _hell_ is McCree?” Jack groused, looking this way and that for the man in question, “And why is he taking so long?”

“You think he found something?” Genji said, tapping the arm rest of his chair

“If he had, he woulda told us.” Lucio said, leaning forward to look at the screen of Hanzo’s comm. Genji and Jack pulled out their own, opening the group chat to look for any sort of response. Like Hanzo, they saw none.

“He could be busy.” Lucio offered unsurely, “I mean, he’s still working—Oh, wait, he responded!”

 

>> **McCree** : I’m coming.

>> **McCree** : You’re gonna have to be more specific about your location

 

Genji looked around for some sort of landmark. He spotted a bar with a giant candy cane sign hanging over it and decided on that.

 

>> **Genji** : We’re by the bar with the giant candy cane over it

 

They thought for sure that McCree would show up after that, but another couple of minutes passed by with no sign of the cowboy. Just as Jack was about to get up and storm around until he found McCree, Genji’s comm pinged with a notification. The rest of the team watched him open it. Confusion flickered across Genji’s features as he looked down at the screen.

“ _‘Look up’?_ ” He read the message aloud. A second later, he opened his mouth to say something and looked up directly in front of him, somewhere behind Hanzo.

Whatever he was about to say shriveled up and died on his tongue. Instead, all that came out was a strangled noise from the back of his throat as he jaw dropped. Genji looked almost comical like that, with his eyes widened in clear shock. His comm slipped from his hands and hit the floor.

Hanzo had enough time to wonder what his brother was looking at when another voice joined the fray.

“Not a **_WORD_** _,_ Shimada.”

Jesse’s voice suddenly came from somewhere behind Hanzo, supposedly addressing Genji, who remained resolutely mute. Jack, Lucio, and Hanzo all twisted in the direction of McCree’s voice, about to ask Jesse what had taken him so long.

Instead, they stared. And stared. And _stared._

 _It was McCree all right_ , but…...to say he looked different would be the understatement of the century.

Jesse McCree– former member of Deadlock, member of past and current Overwatch, vigilante outlaw with a bounty that could probably buy a handful of small countries, badass cowboy with an almost unnatural power to land multiple headshots in a row– was wearing a playboy bunny costume. Not some silly, cutesy outfit like the Halloween costumes. An actual _playboy bunny_ outfit.

Hanzo was _sure_  he was just seeing things. There was no way he was seeing this correctly. But, here's the thing, he was. 

So that's why Genji looked like his brain had shut down.

The strapless black teddy corset hugged his chest _obscenely_. Even though it covered the lean muscles of his stomach, the corset was so appealingly skin tight that it forced the eye into following the curve of his waist, hips, and thighs. Fishnet garter belt _thigh high_ stockings showed off his shapely legs.The band of the stockings and the strap of the garter belt squeezed his appealingly thick thighs in a way that was inexplicably lewd. Black, red bottom heels only managed to emphasize his hips and long legs. Extending out from the top of Jesse’s head were black bunny ears, which worked nicely with the decorative cuffs on his wrists and collar around his neck to finish off the look. 

McCree’s hair, draped on and past his shoulders, fell about his face prettily. A nice blush covered his cheeks as he shifted back and forth his spot, obviously embarrassed.

Both of the Shimada brothers felt their mouth go dry.

“...Good to see y'all too…” Jesse muttered, gaze flitting away. He crossed his arms under his chest. When he turned away slightly, Genji caught side of the fluffy white tail above Jesse’s ass. His ass, which had only one fourth of his covered by the teddy corset. Everything else was on display.

Genji was sure he actually short circuited.

Hanzo visibly stiffened.

Perhaps part of the shock was the difference in McCree’s normal look and _this._ Jesse was a good looking man either way, but his current look…did **not** match his normal rugged aesthetic. Not that either Shimada could bring themselves to complain.

Jesse stood there, fists clenched and expression flushed and angrily embarrassed in a way that was oddly endearing.

The first to actually move was Jack, who shot out of his seat and stood up.

“What the **_fuck_** are you wearing? Who made you wear **that**?!” Jack demanded.

McCree stepped back, startled, as Jack started taking of his jacket. A second later, McCree realized that Jack had fully entered dad-mode.

“Wait, Morrison, holy shit, keep your jacket on!” Jesse put his hands out in a placating gesture, “Sit down, don’t make such a scene.”

But McCree was glad for the distraction, really. It was safer territory than addressing the non-father figures staring at him in shock. Jack faltered, then slowly slipped his jacket back on. He begrudgingly sat back down, his knee bouncing in agitation.

“Aren’t you _cold?_ ” Jack asked, sounding pretty disgruntled. McCree snorted. He shuffled a bit until he was more easily visible to all of the group (specifically Hanzo, who he had been standing behind).

“Cold. In a packed club?” Jesse said, raising an eyebrow, “Nope.”

Jack grumbled under his breath.

“Jesse....” Genji muttered, “This is a…surprise.”

McCree looked at Genji, blushed, looked away and accidentally at Hanzo, and had to look away again. Something about the way the Shimada brothers were staring at him was making him fidget.

Genji paused, obviously unsure of how to react. He felt like he _should’ve_ laughed, but he wasn’t. He never thought he’d see McCree, his _friend,_ wearing something like that. Genji looked at Hanzo for possible reassurance, but his brother looked like he was in an even worse state than Genji.

“I think what he’s _trying_ to say is: why?” Lucio interjected. He gestured up and down at Jesse’s outfit, “Like, why are you…?”

“I was _supposed_ to be a bartender.” McCree huffed, “But then _Mr. Bossman_ decided that I was a better fit for this.”

“And you didn’t tell us because?” Hanzo asked. He firmly fought back the blush and plastered on his normal expression as best as he could.

“I think you can figure that out yourself, Han.” McCree shot back, embarrassment clearly settling in again. Suddenly, Jesse straightened. He glanced around quickly as something occurred to him. Four pairs of eyes looked at him questioningly.

“I can’t just stand here. It looks too suspicious.” McCree said softly, voice only loud enough for the team to hear, “Alright. Genji, I’m gonna sit on your armrest. Don’t be weird about it.”

Jesse then proceeded to stride into the lounge, slip one leg and then the next over Genji’s armrest, and gracefully sit down. His knees were bent over Genji’s leg, almost touching it.

After a few seconds of Genji trying to not make it weird, McCree huffed in annoyance.

“Don’t just sit there.” McCree hissed, swatting at Genji’s shoulder.

Genji forced his brain to reboot and slipped back into his cover as a clubber. He relaxed his body and looped an arm around McCree’s waist. Jesse struggled to reign in a blush, shifting his legs that were incidentally inches away from Genji’s crotch. That wasn’t distracting at all.

To anybody who didn’t know better, Genji simply was a playboy with a pretty stripper on his arm. Genji himself was aware of how picturesque Jesse looked, and tried not to think too hard about how _little Genji_ twitched under the codpiece of his armor.

Who was little Genji? Well, he could put it like this: not all of his lower half had been destroyed. ~~_Yeah, okay it was his dick._ ~~

“You have to do this for a job?” Jack growled, his hands clenched into a fist, “Tell me the name of your boss.”

Jesse flushed and rolled his eyes, “Cool it, Morrison. Not much you can do anyway, unless you want to get me fired.”

Meanwhile, Genji was internally waging a war with himself. He was _supposed_ to laugh in Jesse’s face. And he almost did. He was already thinking of bunny related puns. But he was also supposed to make fun of how ridiculous Jesse looked. But that was the thing– Jesse looked way too _fucking_ good.  Hanzo was facing a similar dilemma. McCree was a _friend_ and a _coworker._ He shouldn’t be staring at McCree like this. But he couldn’t seem to help it. Hanzo couldn’t stop his eyes from following the curve of Jesse’s ass. Or his long, long legs. Or the swell of his pecs.

“I haven’t seen any sign a’ Talon yet. I think today might just be a false alarm.” Jesse said, turning towards the team as a whole. He brushed some hair out of his face, somehow making that look endearing.

“They may come later, though.” Lucio pointed out.

“We can never be too sure. But if Talon doesn’t show up now, during the club’s peak hours, they may not show up at all.” Hanzo added thoughtfully.

“That’s true.” McCree said, tilting his head towards Hanzo. He was briefly silent, before adding on, “Ya know, I’m surprised your little shit of a brother hasn’t laughed at me yet.”

Jesse pointedly looked at Genji, who held up his hands. Alright, this was more normal. He could work with this.

“I distinctly remember you saying ‘not a **_word_  **'.” Genji declared, “But I _am_ thinking of as many bunny jokes as I can right now.”

Jesse scoff-laughed, thankful for the humor. At least now he was getting over the nearly crippling mortification.

Genji, for his part, tried to ignore the raunchy song blasting over the speakers. And how it was making his mind.... _wander_.

 **Fuck**.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave a request if you have one!! Please, pleaaase, leave a kudos and/or a comment if you liked it! K but seriously I'm open to all kinds of feedback.
> 
> Thanks for reading this self-indulgent hot mess!!
> 
> Visit my tumblr: [regret-dot-jpg](https://regret-dot-jpg.tumblr.com/)  
> ('m also considering getting a twitter for my writing account but lemme know what you think)


	5. Not Used To It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse embarrasses himself even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yall!! *yeets this at u* Have another chapter of this shithole
> 
> Right off the bat, I'd like to let everybody whose request I have agreed to know that I have _not_ forgotten about it. It's just that I put all the requests I get at different parts of the story, instead of tossing them in as soon as I get them bc I don't want to make this seem too choppy or forced. But I didn't forget!!!! They're gonna be in there, don't u worry. 
> 
> Also, I changed one thing in this fic: the "don't have to take the uniform home" thing.  
> Now it's that McCree will have to take it home on weekends. why? for the upcoming embarrassing shits and giggles. seriously. that's it. Yall, I am _excited_ for the next chapter.
> 
> Hope u like!!!! Remember to leave a request if you have one!

 

Jesse really wished he had an earpiece.

The team had decided to split up and spread out within the club to cover more ground. Everybody on the team was given an earpiece (it was quicker than typing out a message on the comms) to help with communicating. Except for McCree, that is. So if he wanted to talk to his team, he’d have to find them and talk to them in person.

Jesse had turned down the earpiece because it could be easily discovered during any... _physical intimacy_ on the job. Explaining that to his team had been almost painfully awkward, but nowhere near as awkward as saying that if they wanted to talk to him, they’d have to forgo personal space. It would look suspicious for a stripper to talk to a clubber with _personal space_ while on the job. Basically, McCree was going to have to stand a little closer than usual.

Anyhow, his lack of an earpiece was the reason why he had to seek out Hanzo in person.

He spotted the man at one of the bars, drinking a glass of liquid that looked like vodka but probably wasn’t, being that Hanzo actually took mission seriously. Chances were the glass was just to fit in. McCree moved through the crowd towards the bar, avoiding one or two completely plastered people reaching out to him. He slid up next to Hanzo and leaned on him, all with the same theatrical flirtatious grace. Hanzo glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, realized it was McCree, and managed to relax and tense all at the same time.

“Now why are you all by yourself?” McCree teased, using humor as a shield to batter away the embarrassment. This wasn’t exactly a normal conversation between the two of them.

Hanzo simply raised an eyebrow at him and knocked back some more of his drink.

“C’mon, it was a joke!” McCree rolled his eyes. He lowered his voice so the people near them wouldn’t hear, “But alright, fine, I’ll be serious. Ya seen anything?”

“No. Neither has anyone else.” Hanzo muttered. He took an unnoticed deep breath and lowered his glass, turning towards Jesse, “You were right. Today may just be a false alarm.”

“Can’t complain about that.” McCree admitted, shifting over a bit. To any onlookers, he’d look like he was just acting coy. In reality, he just wanted to shift away to feel a little less awkward. He glanced down at the almost empty drink in Hanzo’s hand, “What’s in there?”

“Sparkling water.” Hanzo replied, tapping the glass with a finger.

“Of course.” Jesse laughed, “Hanzo Shimada would never drink on the job.”

Hanzo tilted his head in a “ _Well of course”_ manner. On the outside, Hanzo looked as a calm and collected as he normally did. But what he felt like on the _inside_ was a completely different story.

He looked down at his glass and idly swirled the drink around. What he was really doing was avoiding looking at McCree. Because when Hanzo _did_ look at him, he felt things he wasn’t supposed to. Not that he could say that Jesse wasn’t, objectively, attractive, but that was where the problem lay. Hanzo didn’t feel _objective_ when he noticed McCree’s attractiveness.

Seeing McCree wearing his current outfit was….an experience. Despite the obvious embarrassment Jesse had about being seen in such a uniform by his team, he seemed to be used to wearing it. But _Hanzo_ was most definitely not used to seeing him in it. Hanzo wasn’t supposed to be acutely aware of how close McCree was. And he definitely wasn’t supposed to force himself not to stare at Jesse’s body. Nor had Hanzo ever entertained the notion that McCree had a _fucking amazing_ ass and a glorious pair of legs and thick hips and—Hanzo quickly raised the glass to his lips and downed the rest of his drink.

“...but you’re knocking that back like it’s a shot.” Jesse stated, a faint grin crossing his lips. Hanzo was starting to wish it was. He tried to come up with some sort of response when their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a pair of passing men.

“Hey sweetheart! You in the bunny ears!” One of the men shouted, sauntering forward til he was within earshot of Jesse. Jesse rolled his eyes, huffed, and turned towards the man. The second man sauntered up next to his friend, very clearly ogling Jesse.

“You busy right now?” The second man asked, leering at McCree without a trace of subtly. Hanzo half-turned towards them, considering glaring at the men until they left, but Jesse apparently had it covered.

McCree promptly latched onto Hanzo’s arm, much to his bewilderment. Jesse sidled closer to the surprised man, until the entire length of his body was pressed against Hanzo’s. Hanzo stiffened at the full body contact, inhaling sharply, and managed to not combust out of pure discipline. Said discipline was barely enough when McCree smiled prettily at the men, looking like the exact definition of arm candy as he hung onto Hanzo’s arm.

“Sorry hon, I’m spending my time with this gentleman.” McCree tilted his head towards Hanzo, then winked. The men glanced at Hanzo with nearly identical frowns, but turned away nonetheless. After a few seconds, the men finally moved on, but not without tossing a few last glances over their shoulders. Once they were out of sight, Jesse let go of Hanzo’s arm and stepped away.

Hanzo internally cursed the way his body immediately missed the contact.

“Sorry bout that.” Jesse muttered, “It was the easiest way to get those two moving.”

“Does that occur often?” Hanzo asked once he found his voice again. McCree laughed.

“ _Duh._ This was one a’ the easier times though.” Jesse admitted, “They weren’t even touchy.”

“Touchy?” Hanzo parroted, blinking.

“Yeah. Touchy.” Jesse mumbled, as if realizing he had just said that out loud. He looked askance, “I’ve gotten the hang of dealing with ‘em when they’re just trying to get my attention. But, uh, I still ain’t used to when they get _handsy._ ”

“Ah.” Was all Hanzo said. He gingerly set the now-empty drink down on the bar.

“I’m gonna check on Lucio.” McCree announced, “See if he’s seen anything.”

Hanzo nodded mutely, focusing on the change in discussion and _not_ on the word “handsy” lingering in his mind. Jesse walked away backwards from Hanzo, miming tipping a hat at him, then turned on his heel and strided away in the direction of the dance floor.

Hanzo had never thought he’d feel betrayed by his own body, but that was the only way to describe how he felt when his eyes automatically dropped to McCree’s ass. He choked instantly, heat rising quickly to his face. _Fuck,_ he was staring again. But he couldn’t seem to stop, almost as if his body thought it was giving him a favor. What it was _really_ going to give him was a heart attack. The moment Jesse disappeared from view, Hanzo whirled back to the bar, resisting the urge to hide his face behind his hands. Maybe if Hanzo slammed his head onto the bar a few times he’d actually get himself together. What was he, a 13 year old boy?! He should _know better than this._

But then why didn’t he?

  
  
  


The rest of the night passed like that-- Jesse bouncing around between teammates and then disappearing when he had to do his actual job. Looking his team in the face while dressed like _that_ was bad enough, but having teammates witness the things he did while working would be a hundred times more horrible. But deep down, Jesse knew it was inevitable.

He just didn’t think it would happen so soon. At least it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

The man Jesse was entertaining was actually taller than him, but suprisingly enough that wasn’t the first thing Jesse had noticed. What he had noticed were the flashy, expensive looking rings adorning his hand, which was why Jesse had taken to internally referring to the man as “Rings”. It was also why he chose to entertain him.

McCree stepped in and place a hand on Rings’ chest. He exhaled softly, making sure Rings was aware of the fact that their lips were only a few inches apart, and stared up at him through his lashes. The man’s chest automatically puff up under his hand, and two seconds later the money in Rings’ left hand was being slipped into one of Jesse’s cuffs.

He was starting to get a grip on this job.

He glanced at the drink in Rings’ other hand, then locked eyes with him again. He turned up the sweet Southern charm, giving Rings a charming smile.

“Is there anything _else,_ ” Jesse traced a pattern on Rings’ chest flirtatiously,“I can get ya, sugar?”

"I can think of a few things.” Rings murmured, grinning down at him. His free hand settled onto Jesse’s back. He seemed to be into the whole flirting thing, so Jesse went with it.

“Oh, really?” McCree tilted his head, now smiling coyly, “Like what?”

“Yeah,” Rings chuckled, “Take a guess.”

Without any warning, Rings’ hand dropped down to Jesse’s ass, landing with a smack, and **_squeezed._** Jesse jumped slightly, but managed to not immediately pull away solely by reminding himself of how much money Rings’ obviously had. If he was already this far along, might as well go the extra mile.

McCree leaned forward until their lips were _almost_ touching.

“I’m afraid I have something to go take care of,” McCree whispered, not missing the way Rings’ body shuddered at the closeness, “ _but,_ I can come by later and we can talk about all these things you want.”

He leaned back to look Rings’ square in the face, quirking his lips into a faint smile. He flicked out the tip of his tongue to wet his lips, all while maintaining eye contact. Rings’ stared back, not saying anything. It didn’t matter, though. His face said all Jesse needed to know.

“Go take care of it, then come back.” Rings’ ordered. He tucked a wad of money into the band of McCree’s fishnet stocking, and let his hand linger for emphasis. Jesse’s mind sang with triumph and he smiled. He did feel kind of bad for lying (he was _not_ coming back), but hey, it was still money.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Jesse purred, stepping out of Rings’ grasp. He pushed the man’s chest lightly, sending him on his way, “I’ll be with ya in a bit. Go have some fun.”

Rings’ looked back at him a couple of times, before disappearing off into the crowd. Jesse watched him go, then let out a little tired puff of victory. He really was getting better at this.

McCree took out the money under his cuff and slid it next to the wad in his stocking. Well, that was enough money earned for the night. His shift was basically over at this point, and he needed to go find his team, wherever they may be. With that in mind, McCree turned around, set on locating his teammates.

But apparently that was unnecessary, because his team was already standing a few feet away, staring at him in silent shock. If they were there….they saw everything. _Shit._

Jesse froze like a deer in the headlights as both parties stared at each other for what felt like eternity. His face gradually got redder and redder until he looked like the embarrassment was going to overflow.

“We were looking for you.” Lucio broke the silence, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Jesse flushed and stormed forward, snarling in defensive anger.

“You saw _nothing,_ ” McCree growled, glaring at the team as a whole (he couldn’t find it in him to get angry at Lucio directly). Jack blinked at him.

“ **_Kid._ ** ” Jack said for lack of better words. The man sounded downright appalled, like a parent looking at their kid’s search history and finding multiple tabs of porn.

“I ain’t exactly a kid anymore, Morrison.” McCree made a face, glaring at Jack. He would’ve continued chewing out the man, but he paused upon noticing that both Shimada brothers were staring mutely down at something further down his body. McCree briefly wondered “ _Now what?_ ”.

He followed their line of sight straight down to the wad of cash tucked into the band of his fishnet stockings, which, in retrospect, actually looked pretty damn scandalous. Jesse grit his teeth in an heady mixture of shame and anger. He snatched up the cash, startling the oddly transfixed brothers, and clutched the money in his fist. Hanzo opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

“Look, okay,” McCree sighed, running a hand down his face, “is there any reason y'all came looking for me?”

“Uhh...Oh, right.” Genji blinked rapidly, “We got word from Winston that this was a false alarm. Talon didn’t show up.”

“Oh.” Was all Jesse said. On one hand, that was good because nobody was in immediate danger. On the other, that meant he had embarrassed himself again and again all for nothing. He settled on not thinking about that at all. “Well, my shift’s about done.”

“Great!” Lucio said, rocking back and forth on heels. The kid seemed to bounce back from shock pretty quickly, “Let’s head back to base. Lena already started a while back, so she should be here in a bit.”

“I can’t exactly leave right away.” Jesse remarked, raising an eyebrow. Lucio blinked, then looked down at the cowboy’s current outfit.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“How long are you going to take?” Jack asked, checking his watch like the old timer he was.

“Not too long. I gotta change and get my stuff from my room.” Jesse jerked his head in the general direction of his room, “So yall can wait in the lobby ‘til then.”

After a quick summary of what they had found, which was basically jackshit, Jesse hurried off in the direction of the employee’s only section. The rest of the team hovered in the lobby. Because of how much quieter the lobby was, they avoided talking about the mission as they waited, which seemed to be just fine for Genji and Hanzo. Lucio was a bit worried, though; they seemed kinda out of it.

Morrison was the first to spot Jesse as he entered the lobby, this time wearing his normal pants and button up. He had a white garment bag with him, which he was folding up and shoving into a black bag.

Jesse didn’t approach his team right away, however, being that he was engaged in a conversation with cheery looking omnic. Notably enough, the smile he gave the omnic was a genuine one, meaning that he actually liked his current company. Jack made a mental note to ask McCree about it as soon as he was done. Jesse shoved at the omnic good naturedly as he moved away, then waved a goodbye. His apparent friend waved back, then moved out of the lobby.

“Who was that?” Jack asked as McCree approached the group once he spotted them. McCree looked over his shoulder in the direction the omnic had gone.

“Who, Ijuri? She works here. She’s a goddamn blessing.” Jesse stated. He stifled a yawn behind his hand and slung the black bag up onto his shoulder, “And I’m goddamn tired.”

Hanzo, meanwhile, had been staring at the bag with something akin to suspicion.

“McCree,” Hanzo said, sounding like he had just found his voice, “What was in the white bag?”

“Oh. Uh, uniform.” Jesse muttered, glancing askance. Hanzo blinked, then realized “uniform” meant what he had been wearing a few minutes ago.

Hanzo wasn’t sure why that information made his mouth suddenly go dry. Perhaps it was because that meant Jesse would be carrying that “uniform” back to base. Part of Hanzo had been wishing he would just leave it here. At least that way, he would be able to cut it out of his mind when they were back--now he felt like there was no escaping it.

“Anyway. Where are we meeting Lena?” Jesse asked, jumping onto the next topic right away.

“She said she’s landing in the unused parking lot behind the club.” Genji said, apparently coming back to his own body.

“She better get here soon. I’m clocking out as soon I get on board.” Jesse muttered, rubbing at his eyes.

Some time later the team was standing in the aforementioned parking lot, watching the Orca touch down in front of them. The hatch lowered and they all trickled in. Lena was waiting for them, already spun around in the pilot’s seat to do a quick headcount. She caught sight of McCree and grinned, waving at him with some mysterious reserve of energy.

“Jesse, luv, haven’t seen you in awhile! How’s your job been?”

McCree paused, then slowly turned towards Lena. In almost comical unison, his team froze. She had asked about his undercover job. The job he obviously hadn’t wanted anybody to know about.

Jesse quietly stared at Lena, who simply stared back with slowly mounting confusion. Just when she was starting to look concerned, Jesse finally answered the question. Well, he sort of did. He evidently didn’t have the energy to embarrass himself again.

“Not gonna lie, I’m tired as all get out. Can we talk later, if ya don’t mind?” McCree said, ruffling his hair, “I think I’m just gonna clock out on one of the pull out beds in the back.”

“Oh, sure, of course. I don’t mind.” Lena laughed, “Wouldn’t want to miss your beauty sleep, would ya?”

Well, that was one crisis momentarily averted. McCree simply gave Lena a little salute-wave and headed for one of the beds up further down the wall. The rest team settled in on the seats, removing earpieces, jackets, and whatever other unwanted mission gear. McCree unfolded a bed from the wall and dropped onto it with a huff.

Genji tracked Jesse’s movement automatically as the cowboy unfolded a bed from the wall and dropped onto it with a loud huff Without much flourish. Jesse tossed his bag onto the ground and pulled the blanket up below his eyes. A part of Genji cooed at the (cute) way Jesse settled in, curling up slightly under the blanket and closing his eyes.

Everybody remained in a companionable silence as the Orca lifted off, settling in and getting some rest. It wasn’t until they were around 10 minutes into the flight that they began discussing the mission.

“You think Talon bounced on the deal?” Lucio asked, popping open a can of some energy drink.

“There is always a chance that Talon moved it to a different day.” Hanzo said, arms crossed as he leaned back in his seat. He had decided it’d be best to put the events of the club behind him for now and instead focus on work. That was normally how he operated, but it wasn’t working as he wanted it to, if the mildly disgruntled look on his face said anything.

Genji wasn’t even trying. He bobbed his head in the universal sign of “I’m not actually paying attention right now”. Honestly, his mind was preoccupied with something else.

McCree.

Seeing Jesse as a _stripper_ was like having his world partially flipped on its head, scrambling his thoughts to hell and back. It was like seeing something that, by all means, wasn’t ever intended to exist. But it _did_ exist, and Genji knew himself well enough to know that his body did not mind at all.

Genji couldn’t help but ask himself: _did he see Jesse_ **_that_ ** _way?_

He trusted and liked the cowboy, he knew that much. Jesse had been there since he had joined Blackwatch. He had seen Genji at his _actual **worst,**_ and even then they had eventually become friends. And while Genji had been looking forward to seeing everybody else from old Overwatch when he joined the recall, he had particularly been looking forward to seeing Jesse. Time had proved that they would risk a lot for the other. But they were _friends. Just friends._ Well, okay, Genji _had_ entertained the thought of them having something more maybe once or twice, but that was all. But now that he was actually thinking about it, he could genuinely see the two of them getting together. Like, actually. There was definitely a connection.

 _And,_ the playboy in him added, _I’d totally hit that._

Genji immediately brought a hand up and smacked himself in square in the face. The conversation teetered to a stop as multiple curious looks swerved towards him. He waved them all off, trying to appear casual. It was in moments like these that he wished he had his helmet on. Anyway, back to him wanting to punch himself in the face. He put a hard stop on _that_ train of thought. It would only make things weird. But, to be fair, things were already kinda weird. Was trying not to stare at your friend's ass weird?

Zenyatta was going to have a field day trying to guide him through this.

  
  


The Orca touched down smoothly on the runway, gliding to a stop near the Watchpoint. The hatch fell open, releasing the occupants of the plane out onto the ground. Jesse held a hand up to block out the light of the recently risen sun, squinting slightly to adjust to the brightness. He used his other hand to lug his bag onto his shoulder. Beside him, Lena stretched out her legs. 

Moments later, a door on the side of the main building opened up, and out came Winston and Angela. The two groups met about halfway between the building and the Orca. 

“Welcome back, agents.” Winston said, adjusting his glasses with one hand. The team chorused a multiple of different greetings in return as Angela quickly scanned them.

"It is good to see you all in one piece." Angela hummed, glad that she couldn't see any injuries on them, "I take it the mission went smoothly?"

"In a way." Hanzo stated, "Talon did not show up."

"Yes," Winston nodded, "from what I gathered they backed out of the deal. But we can cover all that in the meeting."

He then focused in on McCree.

“Agent McCree, good to see you again!” Winston smiled, “ I hope the undercover job hasn’t been to difficult.”

A pregnant pause. Instead of responding, McCree just stared at Winston for a solid minute or two.

Winston and Angela both sent a questioning look to Lena, who shrugged, then to the rest of Jesse’s team, who all looked away. Except Morrison, who looked...disapproving?

"Was there something wrong with it?" Angela asked in concern, "Now that I think about it, you didn't tell us anything about it, Jesse."

McCree sighed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave a request if you have one!! Please, pleaaase, leave a kudos and/or a comment if you liked it! K but seriously I'm open to all kinds of feedback.
> 
> Thanks for reading this self-indulgent hot mess!!
> 
> Visit my tumblr: [regret-dot-jpg](https://regret-dot-jpg.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	6. Morrison The Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things fall apart pretty quickly and people find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **f U c K** I'm LATE
> 
> yall i'm sorry about uploading later than usual!!! But,,,like,,,you know that one gif of a reporter getting smacked with a giant stop sign?? [it's right here if u don't know](https://i.makeagif.com/media/11-25-2015/ORZDu5.gif). Yea, that was life @ me. Also....have yall heard about...the new Overwatch hero? I actually can't it's a fucking HAMSTER LMAO. 
> 
> Happy Fourth of July to all yall that celebrate it! Unfortunatly I'll be out of town for the weekend so there may be a delay in uploading the next chapter [sobs].
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! pls enjoy. i spend all day sweating over a stove for u kids. OH and also **keep leaving requests**!!!

“Can we confirm that none of the agents on the mission found any suspicious persons or activity during the infiltration?” Winston asked, using the expected formal speech of a mission debriefing. The team gave a general consensus, head nods and “yeah”s.

“There was no sign of Talon during the infiltration.” Morrison stated in confirmation.

Debriefing was being conducted in the same room as the pre-mission briefing. Present was the entire team, Lena, Winston, and Torbjorn. Half the things they were saying was already common knowledge, but his was an on-the-record conversation, so they had to follow the formal fancy schmancy debriefing style of speaking. This meant that they were expected to go over as many fucking details as possible.

And Jesse was totally not on edge. He totally wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Winston to ask about that goddamn undercover job. Or for somebody on his team to mention it themselves. And he wasn’t worried about losing whatever dignity he had left.

Yup, Jesse was totally not nervous at all.

Winston shifted his papers, and then set his gaze on Jesse. Jesse immediately tensed up, starting to sweat a little. Dear lord, this was a fucking nightmare. He could only hope Winston had forgotten to ask Jesse about what his job was.

_Be cool, McCree. Don’t act weird and he won’t ask._

Beside him, the rest of his team tensed up as well. They seemed to have picked up on why Jesse was so nervous, and reacted also the same way he did under Winston’s scrutiny. Hanzo froze halfway through adjusting his sleeve. Genji glanced at Jesse out of the corner of his eye. Jack crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. Lucio _actually fucking coughed into his fist._ Way to go, guys. Subtle.

Thankfully, Winston didn’t seem to notice.

“Agent McCree, did you find anything while undercover?” Winston asked, so how unaware of all the warning signs the entire team was throwing out.

“I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. No sign of Talon or any other big baddies.” Jesse reported. He internally applauded himself for sounding normal, “I’ll be continuing investigating on Monday.”

Winston nodded procedurally and moved on to their next plan of action, which McCree was only barely paying attention to.

Right now, the only people who knew about the _specifics_ of his cover was his team. McCree just had to somehow keep the damage to a minimum and keep it that way. He had dodged Lena’s questions in the Orca, and Winston had yet to ask. McCree was just bouncing his knee nervously, sure his luck would run out at any moment. It was like sitting on a ticking time bomb. Jesse was so close to running off unscathed. He could tell they were reaching the end of the debriefing. If they could just be dismissed before Winston remembered...

“Alright.” Winston cleared his throat, “I believe that concludes today’s debriefing. All agents are dismissed.”

Jesse’s body sagged with immediate relief. Oh, thank **_fuck_ ** _._ He could’ve sung with joy at that very moment. He was spared. Somehow, he had just dodged aN bullet. Scratch that, Jesse had just dodged a fucking _missile._ Now all he had to do was skedaddle the _fuck_ out of there as soon as possible, and Winston would probably forget all about it.

Unsurprisingly, McCree was the first one standing. He scooped up his bag, tossed it over his shoulder, and jumped to his feet. Lucio and both Shimadas got up as well, though they seemed almost hesitant, as if they expected Winston to ask _the question_ any moment now.

Jack remained seated, oddly enough, visibly mulling over something with a frown. McCree would’ve been curious, but he had no time to spare. He quickly spat out something about wanting to go take a shower and then darted off towards the exit as casually as he could.

He was only ten feet from the door when his fate was sealed. The missile he thought he had dodged slingshotted itself right back at him with a vengeance.

“Winston.” Jack muttered lowly, sounding determined. McCree felt a rapidly sinking feeling in his stomach, but he didn’t know why.

“We need to discuss the kid’s cover.”

Ah. That was why.

Mother **_FUCKER._ **

Instantly, the blood drained from Jesse’ face as he and the rest of the team froze in stunned silence. Lucio exhaled sharply, letting out a quiet“oof”. After a few moments mute shock, Jesse whirled towards Jack indignantly.

“ ** _MORRISON_ _!_** ” Jesse roared in outrage. And Morrison just glanced at him, and then _fucking ignored him._

“Can’t we make some other cover for him?” Morrison carried on with zero regard for the way Jesse was visibly becoming more and more distraught.

Winston blinked, glancing at Jesse in slight confusion. He remembered a moment later, and newfound curiosity wormed its way into his brain.

“Oh, yes, your cover.” Winston said, turning towards McCree. McCree’s reaction to mentioning his undercover job had been particular, to say the least, “What job do you have currently?”

Multiple eyes swiveled towards Jesse, half curious and half pitying (and then there was Jack, who just looked grumpy). Dear lord, this was a fucking nightmare. Jesse thought about making a run for it, but that would probably just make the whole thing worse. But, honestly, what _wouldn’t_ make this worse?

Jesse ran a hand up and down one arm and attempted to deflect somehow, but all that came out was a startled stutter. He was pinned down by the sudden attention dumped on him, with nowhere to escape too. He began to shift around helplessly under the scrutiny, getting slowly redder as the seconds ticked by. Just as Lena was about to ask if Jesse lost his voice, the man sighed heavily, hung his head, and quietly muttered something.

“What?” Winston asked, unable to pick up on whatever McCree was basically whispering. McCree made a face, but tried again nevertheless.

“...per…” Jesse mumbled, voice barely discernible.

“We can’t hear you.”

“...ipper.”

“Speak _up,_ boy! I’ve heard you **_whisper_** louder than this!” Torbjorn admonished both suddenly and loudly, startling McCree. McCree glowered indignantly, and for a moment his mortification was replaced with frustration.

“Stripper!” Jesse growled in a fit of annoyance, throwing his hands up  in resignation, “I’m a **stripper**! There’s your fucking answer. Happy?!”

The room went dead silent. The long, stretched out quiet gave Jesse enough time to go from annoyed to mortified in a matter of seconds. He practically wilted. Lena’s mouth formed a surprised “o” as Torbjorn blinked rapidly, trying to compute what Jesse had said.

“You’re a...” Winston mumbled, obviously still processing the information, “...stripper.”

Lucio’s expression was the nonverbal equivalent of  a wincing, sympathetic _“ouch”._

A few more silent seconds ticked by. McCree huffed to himself and glanced away, wishing he had something to hide behind. Even a lamppost would’ve been good. He normally didn’t mind the spotlight all that much, but right now he wanted _out._ And he couldn’t stop fidgeting like a little kid.

“...Alright.” Winston said again, once he found his voice, clearly stunned. He cleared his throat a few times, trying to think of an appropriate way to respond, “And, um, Soldier 76, I’m assuming this is the main reason for you complaint?”

Torbjorn came back to life in that moment, scowling deeply, “I’m with Morrison on this one. The kid needs a new cover, _now._ ”

“I’m not exactly a kid anymore!” McCree hissed. They were all acting so damn scandalized, and it was just making it so much worse for him.

“If you’re young enough to do **that** _,_ you’re a kid!” Torbjorn shot back. Jack nodded sternly in agreement.

“I can’t exactly ask for a different job! It was that or nothing, he’s not just gonna let me switch!” Jesse snapped defensively.

“That or nothing?” Genji echoed suddenly from across the room. He stare at Jesse with an emotion he couldn’t quite place, “It was _that_ serious?”

McCree paused, realizing the new hole he had dug himself into. It wasn’t _bad..._ but the way Genji phrased it made it seem like he was implying something.

“I dunno, I guess he thought it’d be a good fit or some bullshit like that!” Jesse sputtered, “I wouldn’t’ve done it otherwise!”

“If what McCree is saying is true,” Winston began awkwardly, “we can’t change his cover.”

Morrison slammed his hands on the table adamantly, “What? There’s gotta be something we can do!”

Jesse flushed, holding his head in his hands. He wasn’t staying for anymore of this shit --he’d damaged his reputation enough already. He turned on his heel and promptly stomped out the door, grumbling under his breath about his goddamn horrible luck. As he stepped out into the hallway, his ears caught onto Morrison’s next tirade.

“We can’t just pimp McCree out for a mission!”

Somewhere behind him, Hanzo choked loudly.

 

It was good to be back in his room. And it was _especially_ good to be reunited with his hat. After coming out of his shower and dressing in his own clothes (his own clothes!!!), McCree had slapped on the old thing on right away. He had missed it a little too much for an inanimate object, but sometimes you just got really attached to your hat, ya know? Aside from that, he had missed just about everything in his room: his bed, his guitar, the collection of Clint Eastwood movies, all that good shit.

The only thing that almost ruined it all was the fact that he still had his uniform with him. After taking it and the heels out of his black bag, McCree had decided to just hang the garment bag up in his closet. It looked innocent enough, but what easily gave him away were the heels resting on the floor under the bag. Jesse didn’t have any sort of box to put the heels in, so the damn things were just _sitting there._ After glaring at the heels for good measure, Jesse headed down to the kitchen.

He had almost decided against it after that disaster of a debriefing, but he was kinda hungry.

And so Jesse made his way down to the kitchen.

 

Genji popped open the tab of the can. Thanks to the fact that he no longer felt the need to wear a mask or helmet around base, he could take a sip of the soda straight away. A healthy body image could be rather convenient in unexpected ways.

The ninja leaned back against the counter behind him and closed his eyes, taking in the peaceful quiet. He focused on nursing the can in his hands, but automatically perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Whoever it was entered the kitchen, and Genji was already forming a greeting when looked up and caught sight of McCree. Genji froze unknowingly, awkwardly holding the can to his lips but not actually drinking.

Part of him wanted to leave--for all he knew, this could end up super awkward. He promptly shut that part out. Why would it be awkward? They were just friends. Just two friends, chilling in a kitchen. It was just Jesse. Good ol’ Jesse. Fun-to-be-around Jesse. Bright eyed, blessed with amazing legs, Jesse. Wait, no, _nope nope nope,_ ignoring that last thought.

“Oh, howdy Genji.” Jesse said in greeting, sounding pleasantly surprised to stumble across Genji, “Didn’t think I’d catch ya in here.”

“Didn’t think I would see you out of your room.” Genji shot back, teasing. It was almost automatic, at this point, “That debriefing didn’t go in your favor.”

Genji was undeniably kind of amused by the whole thing, but at the same time...

McCree made a face, reddening noticeably. Or maybe it wasn’t that noticeable and Genji had just picked up on it.

“You can say that again.” Jesse muttered, walking over to join Genji in leaning against the counter. He jostled Genji with his shoulder, and the cyborg tried not to feel the little jolt that ran through him, “Can’t believe Morrison ratted me out like that.”

“They would’ve found out anyway, Jesse.”

“You don’t know that.” McCree huffed, crossing his arms. He paused and glanced around the kitchen, before returning his gaze to Genji, “Where’s Hanzo?”

“He’s camped out in his room, doing who knows what.” Genji said. He had a inkling he knew why Hanzo was locking himself in his room, but he didn’t want to address it, “You know, Winston barely convinced Morrison to let it go. Jack went as far as claiming we were pimping you out.”

McCree scoffed, side eyeing Genji.

“Y’all about one layer of clothing away from actually doing that.” Jesse muttered, looking askance. Genji’s eyes widened. He nearly choked on the soda but managed to hide it at the last second, instead glancing away quickly. Fuck, his face was getting warm.

“Ah.....that sounds….fun.”

Jesse laughed at that, leaning back. Their hips bumped up against each other.

“Do you want to go sit down in the lounge?” Genji asked suddenly, pushing off from the counter. McCree stared at him, surprised at the abruptness, but nodded anyway.

Multiple people were already in the lounge. Hana and Lucio were crowded around a game. Every now and then they  would shout out a little. Mei sat nearby, working on her laptop. Lena and Reinhardt were watching a game of soccer (“it’s **_football_ ** _._ ”), cheering and groaning in turn with the events on the screen. Angela peacefully sipped a cup of coffee, apparently on break from all her doctoring duties. Jack (the fucking traitor) sat with Ana, the two of them muttering to each other.

McCree and Genji picked out a round table to sit at, but just as they were settling down, Ana got up and marched over.

“Heads up.” Genji muttered to Jesse, “Ana’s coming this way and she doesn’t look too happy.”

Jesse turned his head to see that, yes, Ana was coming their way, and groaned quietly. The woman was like a mother to both of them, but that also came with _nagging._ Ana came to stop at their table, towering over Jesse. Genji had enough time to wonder what Jesse was in trouble for, when Ana placed a hand on the cowboy’s shoulder.

“Jesse.” She murmured, looking down at him with a serious but undeniably concerned face. The exact same expression Morrison had on. Jesse blinked. He looked at Genji, then Ana, then Jack. Then Ana again.

Oh.

“You know.” McCree muttered, narrowing his eyes at Ana.

“She knows.” Genji agreed pityingly.

Ana nodded, jaw set in a determined way. Oh, shit.

“Jack and Winston told me.”

Genji laughed a little at the look McCree sent Morrison. He had probably coerced Winston into telling. All humor drained out of the situation when Ana removed her hand from Jesse’s shoulder to place her fists on her hips instead. Oh, **_shit_ ** _._ Jesse was in for it now.

“And why didn’t you tell me?” Ana reprimanded McCree, who just looked away. All of a sudden, her gaze swiveled to Genji, who immediately held up his hands in surrender.

“And what about you, Genji? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know until we went to the club!” Genji said, holding his hands out in a “I’m innocent” sort of way. He relaxed when Ana visibly backed off, deeming him innocent. Genji  _d_ _id_ feel kind of bad a second later, though, when Ana’s gaze flew back to Jesse. He had kind thrown Jesse under the bus just now, didn’t he?

“You didn’t even tell your teammates?!”

“This ain’t exactly something I want to shout from the rooftops.” McCree shot back, “Besides, why are you making such a big deal about it?”

“Because that job is asking too damn much from you.” Jack had joined the conversation, fiat placed firmly on the table in that old-man way of his.

“You should not have to do such things for a mission!” Ana stated firmly. Genji would have laughed, but Ana’s words brought up a stream of images in his head.

Jesse perched on the armrest of his chair, back arched _just so_. Wide hips shifting back and forth as Jesse scooted closer, until Genji wrapped an arm around his waist. Soft looking brown hair draped over tan shoulders. Jesse pressing up against that random clubber, who reached down to grab a handful. Dollar bills pinned between fishnet stockings and thick thighs. A skimpy, skin tight corset teddy. The alluring curve of his ass.

_Shit shit shit **shit SHIT**. _

The vents on Genji’s shoulders snapped open, releasing steam from his overheated cybernetics. He immediately lifted the can to his lips, hiding his face behind it.

“He can’t just switch jobs.” Genji muttered into the drink, voice unreadable, “His employer wouldn’t let him.”

When McCree sent him a grateful look, Genji wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he was looking down at the table, uncharacteristically stoic.

By then, everybody in the lounge had stopped to listen in on the conversation. Lucio and Lena already knew what they were talking about, but were watching it all play out anyway. Everybody else was watching with notable curiosity. Reinhardt had even gotten to his feet, worry starting to make its way onto his features. Jesse was about to make an attempt to divert the conversation, but he figured it was too late anyway.

“Wait,” Hana asked, officially stopping in her gaming to join the conversation. She turned to Lucio, who happened to be making that universal face of “I know something about this but don’t think I should say anything. Hana pounced immediately.

“You know something. What did Jesse have to do?”

“I…” Lucio glanced at McCree apologetically, “...think it’s up to Eastwood to answer that.”

“What is it Jesse?” Reinhardt pressed worriedly, “There is nothing we cannot take care of, if you just tell us.”

Reinhardt slammed a fist into his other hand for emphasis. Lena made the exact same face Lucio did. She raised her had as if to say something, but dropped it a second later. She sent Jesse a look of pity.

McCree held his face in his hands, defeated. It was like the debriefing all over again, except this had crashed and burned a bit faster.

“Jesse, are you feeling alright?” Angela’s concerned voice reached his ears, no doubt in reaction to the fact that he was cradling his face in despair.

Genji wordlessly patted the cowboy on the back. Moments passed before he noticed Jesse slowly looking up from his hands. He stared back drearily at all the curious gazes, then glanced at Genji, who just patted him on the back again. Jesse sighed in resignation.

“Fuck it.” McCree murmured, and leaned back. Hana perked up, realizing that he was about to spill the tea.

“It’s my cover for a mission,” Jesse explained, “I’m working undercover at a strip club, cause Talon’s s’pposed to be doing shit there.”

McCree paused, hesitating. He didn’t want to actually say it out loud, after that hot mess of a debriefing and the repeated hits to his pride.

“I...was _supposed_ to be a _bartender_.” McCree muttered lowly, “I’m not.”

Jesse paused, waiting for it to sink in. Hana was the first to get it, eyes widening slowly until they were the size of dinner plates.

“Wait. Hold on. You— _Nooooo_ _._ ” Hana said, words jumbling up together as the pieces connected in her head, “You’re a— _Are you a—?_ ”

“Yup.” McCree drawled wearily.

Hana’s hand flitted up to her mouth in shock.

“Oh. _My god._ ” She said in disbelief, “No way. No fucking way.”

“Yes way.” Lucio provided helpfully.

“I don’t understand.” Mei admitted, looking between the two in confusion. McCree went back to holding his head in his hands.

“Somebody. Please.” Jesse mumbled, “Just say it.”

Well, if that’s what he wanted...

“Jesse’s a stripper.” Genji announced, letting the words roll off his tongue and into the room. He had hoped that saying it aloud would get it out of his system somehow, make it less _weird_ for him, but...if anything, saying it aloud just made it worse. It was like he was legitimately acknowledging it for the first time. It felt as if the realization was sinking in for the second time. The general reaction within the room didn’t help either.

Angela nearly spit-taked her coffee.

“A _**what?!** ”_ Reinhardt boomed. Mei’s mouth dropped open slightly. She gingerly check her water bottle to see if she had accidentally been drinking vodka or something like it all this time. It was water. This was real.

“A stripper,” Ana remarked, frowning, “and he says we can’t do anything to change that!”

“And that’s bullshit,” Jack growled, slamming the table with his fist, “we’re practically pimping out the kid, we can’t just—!”

McCree flushed deeply at Jack’s words. He couldn’t believe Morrison was saying this shit _again._

Unbeknownst to everybody else, the entrance to the lounge had opened up, and in came Hanzo, just in time to see a red faced McCree shoot up out of his seat.

“I AM **_NOT_ ** _BEING PIMPED OUT!”_ McCree shouted at the top of his lungs.

Hanzo turned around and left

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave a request if you have one!! Please, pleaaase, leave a kudos and/or a comment if you liked it! K but seriously I'm open to all kinds of feedback.
> 
> And don't worry, there'll be more of Hanzo next chap.
> 
> Thanks for reading this self-indulgent hot mess!!
> 
> Visit my tumblr: [regret-dot-jpg](https://regret-dot-jpg.tumblr.com/)


	7. Embarrassment, Awkwardness, and Shenanigans Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo yells at himself and McCree just wants to do his goddamn laundry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back from vacay yall! I climbed rocks and shit it was fun.
> 
> ALSO IT’S POLL TIME!!!!  
> alright, so, yall know this a mcgenji/mchanzo fic. There will be smut. However, I’m kinda feeling the idea of Mccree getting a lil hot-n’-heavy with some random patron...like, what I have in mind is that he ends up blowing an unsuspecting baddie or something like that to distract them or squeeze out (hehehe) secrets. Is that something u guys would wanna see? Lemme know.
> 
> and sorry about the delay. there’s gonna be a bit of a delay for a while, bc I’m prepping for mcgenji week.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! pls. OH and **keep leaving requests**!!!

 

Hanzo couldn’t believe this.

His behavior had been completely, totally, wildly unprecedented. McCree’s uniform should have been just that—a uniform. But instead he had stared at McCree like some sort of hormonal teenager. Even now, the image of Jesse in that uniform _would. Not. Leave. Him._

He was practically sulking at this point, but he’d take it over appalling lack on any control he seemed to have. He couldn’t control his own thoughts. All those years of discipline out the window in seconds. It was _ridiculous,_ childish even.

Moments after Jesse had left the debriefing, Hanzo had excused himself as well and then beelined straight to his room. He wanted to save some face and berate himself privately. He needed to resolve these _thoughts_ before they got out of hand. So here he was, disgruntledly pacing around in circles in his room as he internally yelled at himself.

It was supposed to be straightforward: McCree would go undercover at a club.  He was supposed to be a bartender—simple as that— but he ended up a stripper. But _that_ should have been fine, too! Objectively, it gave Jesse a wider base of operations within the club, even though his job was...unfortunate. In the end, it was just a cover.

So why was Hanzo so **_distracted_ ** _?_ He had practically ogled Jesse, not to mention the fact that his traitorous mind kept thinking about everything it shouldn’t have. So what if McCree)s uniform was revealing? Hanzo should **not** have reacted the way he did. And still is, because his god forsaken self kept thinking about thick thighs and—

Hanzo blinked rapidly and shook the image out of his head. No, no, he was supposed to be better than this. His behavior towards McCree was utterly inappropriate. The cowboy was a friend, not somebody to be **_fantasized_ ** about!

Oh god.

Was he fantasizing?

No, no, Hanzo Shimada did not _fantasize_ inappropriately about McCree. Yes, perhaps his reaction was rather unseemly, but he had not fallen that far. Jesse’s uniform just….left little to the imagination, and Hanzo’s mind had conducted itself improperly. That was all. It had been a while since he had taken part of things like this.

The outfit was just so _revealing._ It flaunted everything McCree had going for him, including things Hanzo hadn’t noticed before. Like the thickness of McCree’s thighs, his wide hips, his amazing legs, the eye catching curve of his a—

Wait, **_NO_** _._

Hanzo growled in frustration, barking out angry Japanese under his breath. He was just going around in circles. What was _wrong_ with him? At this rate, how was he supposed to look McCree in the face and have a civil conversation? This was downright shameful.

Hanzo forced himself to a stop, stilling his mind and taking a deep breath. This was being blown way out of proportion. If he could just take a step back and let it pas... He just needed to clear his head, and he would stop acting like this. Given some time, he’d be able to get a grip on himself. Perhaps some sort of distraction would help.

Company would be the perfect opportunity. Other agents could be found in the lounge at any time of day, so that would be best place to go. Talking to somebody about something else would get his mind off of McCree...right?

It was worth a try.

Within that in mind, Hanzo made his way down to the lounge, seeking out the distraction he needed.

Minutes later, he was approaching the lounge’s hallway entrance. Even from here he could hear the buzz of a loud conversation that seemed to be rapidly escalating. Curious, he stopped at the door and waited for it to slide open. When he stepped in, he noticed multiple things all at once. One, it was loud. Two, Genji was there as well and looked like he was seconds from shutting down.

And third was a red faced McCree shooting up out of his seat in clear outrage.

“I AM **_NOT_ ** _BEING PIMPED OUT!”_ Jesse shouted at the top of his lungs.

Hanzo turned around and marched out the door.

It was more of an automatic retreat, really. The moment the words registered, Hanzo’s body carried him out, leaving behind the hectic conversation before he got sucked in. He manually slammed the door behind him, blinking away the whiplash of entering and leaving pure chaos within seconds. In the quietus of the hall, Hanzo dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and took a deep breath.

So that went horribly. Not only was _Jesse_ there, but they were all talking about the very thing Hanzo had been trying to get his mind off of. If anything, this may have just made it worse. McCree wasn’t sleeping with clients, was he?

Hanzo steadfastly ignored the image poking at his mind's eye.

If company was not a viable option, what else was there? Perhaps training. It was a good way to blow off some steam, or to just lose oneself in the mechanics of fighting. It would preoccupy him and mean some level of focus, at the very least

The practice range it was, then.

  


Hanzo eyed the unsuspecting training bot hovering in the distance, he mocked an another arrow and raised Storm bow. Hmm. Just a little higher. He adjusted his aim ever so slightly, lifting the tip of the arrow upwards. With a smooth exhale, he let the arrow fly.

Headshot.

He allowed himself a little smile of satisfaction—that had been a particularly difficult shot. He had amped up the difficulty of the simulation, partially because he wanted a challenge and partially because it would make it easier to distract himself. And for the most part, it was working. Hanzo seemed to have successfully retained some sense of control. Now he could actually focus on something other than... **_that_ ** _._ Perhaps the practice range had been exactly what he needed, Hanzo mused as he jumped down from his perch. Of course, it was too good to be true.

Because seconds after the simulation ended, McCree himself walked into the practice range.

The familiar sound of spurs jingling made Hanzo freeze. He turned around slowly, almost in disbelief, clutching the arrows he had collected in his fist. His ears hadn’t lied to him. Jesse was making his way towards him, looking out over the destroyed bots in the range.

“Damn, you did a number on these things.” Jesse remarked with a lazy grin, unaware of the fact that Hanzo was frozen like a deer in the headlights, “Didn’t think you’d go training right after coming back from a mission.”

Hanzo tried not to react as McCree continued to approach, shrinking the space between them.  Upon further inspection, Hanzo noticed that McCree had slipped back into his normal gear (sans the chest armor and serape), complete with the iconic BAMF buckle. Hanzo stared at it for a moment, before realizing that he was not staring at the belt, but rather the swaying hips it was slung on. He snapped his gaze up to McCree’s face and kept it there.

“...I wanted to refine my skills. The mission was not the most engaging one.” Hanzo said after a pause, “But that brings forth the question as to why _you_ are here _._ ”

McCree laughed, “Got me there. I dunno, same as you I guess. I mostly just wanted to blow off some steam. Especially after that clusterfuck in the lounge. Morrison and Ana blew it for me. There’s probably only three people here who don’t know now.” “An’ they’ll probably know by the end a’ the hour.”

“I believe I saw some of that.” Hanzo said, purposely keeping his voice neutral, “When you were yelling at Soldier 76.”

McCree’s eyes widened. His face went a few shades redder instantly. Hanzo did not think about it looked nice on him.

“Oh. You heard that.” Jesse muttered sullenly, eyelids lowering as he looked askance. Hanzo absolutely did not stare at his eyelashes. “Yeah, uh, it wasn’t going so well. Goddamn _Morrison._  He won’t stop talking about how I’m being “pimped out” and shit like that.”

Hanzo stiffened.

Jesse reached up to scratch the back of his neck bashfully. Hanzo stared. 

McCree’s casual outfit was rather flattering, in retrospect. Had it always been so formfitting? The pants looked like they were _glued_  to his thighs, not to mention how the button up shirt looked as if it was close to _straining_  over his pecs.

Oh.

_Oh **no**._

“I’m done.” Hanzo blurted and stepped back,“The range is yours.”

He hastily packed his arrows into the quiver. McCree opened his mouth in shock, startling at the suddenness of of it all. But before McCree could actually react, Hanzo was already retreating out the door, clutching Storm bow in a death grip.

McCree blinked at the space Hanzo had been in mere seconds ago. 

“...Bye.”

  
  


Jesse was responsible for taking care of the uniform whenever he had it overnight. Normally, the workers at the club would clean it and whatnot, but since he didn’t work weekends he’d have to clean it himself.

Cleaning it would involve one thing: laundry. The only problem with that was that everyone used the same laundry room.

Only his team had seen that embarrassment of a uniform, and McCree would all that he could to keep it that way. People _knowing_ he was a stripper was one thing. Them knowing the shit he had to wear on the job was something else entirely. He wanted to keep that on the down low, but with his luck it was going to be harder than expected.

And that was why he was hurrying down to the laundry room with a laundry basket propped up on his hip. It looked like a normal  laundry—just a couple of shirts. But hidden under the layer of shirts was the folded up garment bag containing his uniform. He didn’t think anybody was going to randomly storm up to him and demand to look at his laundry, but better safe than sorry.

Rounding a corner, Jesse spotted the open door to the laundry room and walked inside. The laundry room was empty, but hummed with the sound of running washing/drying machines. After setting the basket down on the counter, he fished out the garment bag and laid it out beside it. Now that Jesse thought ‘bout it, he had no idea what the instructions for washing this thing was. Would the fishnet stockings get all ripped up? What if the corset shrunk? That thing was already tight enough as it was. Was he supposed to handwash the bunny ears?

Maybe there were instructions inside the bag. Jesse unzipped the bag and sure as day, there was a little post it note inside with washing instructions written out. According to the post it note, it was okay to just toss everything straight in. Well, that made everything so much easier. Now all that was left was to find an available machine.

He stepped away from the counter and zeroed in a machine that didn’t have the telltale hum of a washing machine running. He popped open the door-lid thing on it to check inside. Yup, empty. The sound of somebody knocking against the wall diverted McCree’s attention from adjusting the wash settings. When he glanced up, he saw Genji in the doorway. 

“You knocked on an open door?” McCree raised an eyebrow, leaning away from the washing machine.

“Of course. It’s polite.” Genji said, nodding so sagely that it was blatantly sarcastic. McCree shook his head in amusement. Genji grinned and entered the room, revealing Hanzo and the rest of the current mission’s team filing in behind him. Lucio smoothly glided in, skidding to a stop beside McCree.

“We were looking all over for you, Eastwood. Had to ask Athena where you were.” Lucio informed him, pointing up to the ceiling.

“That is true.” The aforementioned AI chimed from the speaker above.

“And why is that?” McCree, asked. 

“Good news! The good news is that we actually have news.”

“Winston intercepted what seems to be a message from Talon.” Hanzo clarified, “They plan to host a deal at the...location...on the 25th.”

“That’s in a couple of days.” McCree noted, “Think they might not show?”

“It’s not likely.” Jack remarked, “Talon sounded serious about this one.”

After McCree made a mental note of the date to himself, he finally addressed the elephant in the room. He took some time to give Jack, who had the _nerve_ to just stand there like that, the meanest glare he could.

“Don’t think you’re forgiven, Morrison. I cannot **_believe_ ** the shit you pulled.” Jesse barked, jabbing a finger in the direction of the man.

“Oof.” Genji muttered, “That was  _rough._ ”

Morrison crossed his arms over his chest adamantly,“I stand by my words. It isn’t right.”

“For fuck’s sake, I can handle myself.” Jesse rolled his eyes. Morrison huffed gruffly but dropped it for the time being. It was clear he couldn’t convince Jesse to switch jobs. He’d bring it up to Winston again later.

“ _Anyway,_ ” Hanzo said only slightly awkwardly, “the message said that Talon will be sending a few of its people in advance, most likely to get an idea of the layout of the club.”

“We don’t know how far in advance they mean, though.” Genji stated, “It could mean a few days or a few hours. Maybe both, if they wanted to be thorough.”

“It’s probably gonna be both.” Lucio tapped his fingers against his thigh, going to the beat of the song stuck in his head. McCree rubbed his jaw in thought.

None of them seemed to fully realize when another agent entered the room. It was none other than Mei, who was searching for a missing notebook.  Despite how import the notebook was (it had crucial environmental data that needed to be transferred), she had misplaced it. Mei had already checker her room and the lounge, and the laundry room was like the unofficial lost and found of Overwatch, so it was probably in here. If anything, it was lying somewhere on the counter.

There was a laundry basket, some magazines, a pen….and sure enough, her notebook was there. She grinned and scooped it up, feeling rather sheepish for managing to lose something that important. Just as Mei was about to turn and leave, she caught sight of something else Lying next to the laundry basket was a mysterious white garment bag. It was unzipped but not completely open, black fabric peeking through the gap. Mei was admittedly a tad curious; surely nobody would mind if she took a look? It was just clothing, after all.

“They’re probably gonna settle for dealing in one a’ the private rooms. There’s a buncha those in the back. It’s good place that sort of thing.” Jesse muttered, unaware of what was going on near the counter, “But it’d be good for us, too, cause—”

“What’s this?”

Everybody, for the most part, jumped in surprise. They turned in unison to take in the sight of Mei holding up the mysterious black fabric, which ended up being none other than….

Mei’s face transformed from curiosity to pure shock as she looked at the strapless teddy corset dangling in her hands.

“ _Oh._ ” Mei muttered quietly, staring at the “clothing”. It didn’t look like something anybody would wear outside of behind closed doors, “Is this….?”

Immediately, Jesse’s team whipped around to stare at him. The cowboy looked just as shocked as Mei, if not about a hundred times more disgruntled. Without thinking about it, he marched over and pulled the corset out of Mei’s stunned grip.

“H-hey now, you shouldn’t–I mean,” Jesse stuttered, fumbling over himself as he nervously shoved the corset back into its bag. Mei blinked, bewildered stare flitting between Jesse and the bag. A second later, she remembered and it all clicked. Jesse’s cover job was a stripper. That corset was _his. He wore that as a **uniform.**_

“ _Was that your_ –Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Mei’s face reddened swiftly. She raised her hands in frantic apology, “I didn’t mean to! I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff, I’m sorry!"

Jesse flushed in response. It was like some never ending cycle of becoming all flustered. He waved off Mei’s fears quickly. She hadn’t meant any harm. But her opinion of him was probably drastically different now.

“Look, look, it’s fine! Not your fault, hon. I just...don’t tell a _word_ of this to the others, okay? You can prob’ly tell why I wanna keep this on the down low.” McCree muttered, shifting back and forth.

Mei nodded, then scurried out of the room after one more frantic apology. Jesse watched her go, face still burning slightly. He turned to see his team still staring at him, as if they were watching some sort of dramatic soap opera. Lucio was shaking with barely controlled laughter. Genji looked like he was in the same boat, if a bit..off. Hanzo’s expression was unreadable and Jack just looked disapproving.

“Wow.” Lucio said, eyebrows raise, “You have the _crappiest_ luck.”

“Shut it.” Jesse groaned, turning around pick up the bag and laundry basket, grumbling. He hauled the bag and basket over to the washing machine, “Well, now yall know why I’m in the laundry room. I have to wash this stupid fucking thing. Went through the trouble of coming down here all secretly and still...”

Genji’s laughter mysteriously cut off when McCree bent over to the set the basket on the ground.

Jesse settled the garment bag against the washing machine and unzipped it all the way. Hanzo impulsively looked away (he couldn’t understand _why,_ but he just did) when Jesse pulled out the pieces of the uniform one by one––corset, garter belt, fishnet stockings, accessories–– and tossed them into the machine.

“But I guess it ain’t the worst it could be.” Jesse mused as he picked up the laundry basket and dumped in the normal shirts, “I mean, Mei ain’t the type to run around running her mouth about other people’s secrets. Unlike _somebody_ I know.”

McCree pointedly looked at Jack, who had the _audacity_ to just shrug.

“They’d have found out eventually.”

McCree shook his head and grumbled under his breath. He was so done with this shit. With a press of a button (it was more of a stab, really), the machine turned on and got to work. He stepped back and glared at it, as if it was the reason all of this was happening. Jesse really needed to stop glaring at inanimate objects.

A few seconds of silence ticked by.

“I don’t know, man,” Lucio said softly, almost contemplatively, as he stared at the rumbling washing machine, “maybe this could help you get a….. _clean_ slate.”

“...”

“Get it? Cause you’re cleaning it and—”

“I expected _better_ from you.”

“Sorry.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave a REQUEST if you have one!! Please, pleaaase, leave a kudos and/or a comment if you liked it! K but seriously I'm open to all kinds of feedback.
> 
> Thanks for reading this self-indulgent hot mess!!
> 
> Visit my tumblr: [regret-dot-jpg](https://regret-dot-jpg.tumblr.com/)


	8. Embarrassment, Awkwardness, and Shenanigans Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse talks about some things and learns to be a little less embarrassed about his job....to an extent. Genji, meanwhile, has a major crisis, and finds out a few things about himself. Also, he’s horny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm not dead.
> 
> ANYWAY, YALL IM SO **FUCKING** SORRY ABOUT THE COMPLETE AND TOTAL LACK OF UPDATES FOR LIKE WHAT 7 MONTHS??? I've been so goddamn busy with school and life and all that shit, and I was working on this single chapter the entire time, but since I wanted to make up for the long ass wait, I tried to make the chapter longer, but then that just made the _wait_ longer, and then I tried to make up for THAT and.....yeah. It was a cycle. But, yeah, ya friendly neighborhood bitch is back from the dead baby!!! For how long? I don't know, but I hope it's a long period of time!!
> 
> Anyway, what yall need to know is that this individual chapter is long as fuck so......hope u like that lmao. I think I covered a request in this chap, but I can't remember who it was that requested it...but whoever you are you'll spot it when u get to it so it's cool. I'm gonna implement those other requests too so don't worry yall.
> 
> Also, u might have noticed that the rating went from 'M' to 'E'......;)))))))))))))). Don't get too excited tho, bc there's no actual sex between two characters yet, so sorry about that. But HEY! There's a single character masturbating....while thinking....of another character ;))))).
> 
> On that note, here's a thing you'll need to know to read this chapter: I'm not sure if you've read my other smut fic (aka Run Run Rudolph lol self plug), but I headcanon that not all of Genji's torso, or his upper half was destroyed. The way I see it, a good chunk of the right side of his torso was damaged, but the left is generally okay (it's just hidden under all that armor). As for his lower half, everything between his thighs to his hips is also NOT damaged, but also just hidden under armor. 
> 
> Why is it important? bc the character that masturbates is genji. that's him. He jerks it. He horny.
> 
> Anyway start reading have fun yall

Everybody knew he was a stripper.

 

Just what he needed.

 

Now, don’t get him wrong, there was nothing wrong with that job— if anything, it deserved _much,_ **_much_ ** more respect that it usually got. A lot of skill went into being a stripper, and honestly? Major fucking kudos to the people who were good at it. And, on the top of that, they typically had to put up with a _looooooooooot_ of bullshit from clubbers(he spoke from experience).

 

But that didn’t change the fact that Jesse was personally embarrassed about it.

 

At this point, he figured that the best way to survive _this_ whole mess was to either make everybody (and himself) think it wasn’t that big of a deal, or just never bring it up for the rest of eternity. Jesse chose to go with the second option, at least for now.

 

One would think the fact that they’re a stripper wouldn’t come up that often. Sure, it was practically being broadcasted all throughout base yesterday, but still. They all had their moment to yell about it, and Jesse assumed it was over by now.

 

He was wrong.

 

But not right away, though. When he walked into the commons for breakfast, he _did_ get a few brief stares, and there was that odd, unreadable look Hanzo gave him as he sat down with the Shimadas, but that was all. For the most part, everything carried on as normal. As normal as a breakfast at Overwatch could get, anyway. After a while, Jesse was starting to believe that maybe nobody would mention his new job. But that didn’t last long.

 

Ironically enough, he was the first person to bring it up. Maybe even more ironically, the conversation had started off completely innocent.

 

Hana was about halfway through a bowl of Lucio-Ohs and complaining about a MEKA pilot event she had to go to. It was less of the event she was complaining about, and more about her choice of attire.

 

“The dress code is formal, which isn’t really the problem. No, see, the problem is the outfit I’m wearing.” Hana gestured with her spoon, “Don’t get me wrong, it’s super cute, but….”

 

“But?” Angela prompted, looking sympathetic but mildly amused. Hana sighed.

 

“I’m wearing heels, and when I first tried them on they were fine. Well, I mean, they’re _still_ fine, but the heels are higher than I’m used to and I thought the event was just one hour. It’s going to be _three,_ maybe **_four_ ** hours.”

 

“Then wear flats.” Genji offered as a solution, absentmindedly flicking some non-existent dust off the skin of his bare left shoulder.

 

Considering that it was technically a ‘day off’ for Genji, he had ditched all not-built-in armor and swapped it with a white muscle tee and black sweatpants. It left his entire left arm and shoulder bare, revealing firm muscles, and _no, Jesse was totally not enjoying the view in the slightest no siree._

 

(Guess that was why they called it a “muscle” tee)

 

“I _could,_ but believe me, flats don’t work that well with my dress. And I already paid 800 dollars for the heels, I can’t just _not_ wear them.” Hana made a face, “Who decided that heels could cost 800 dollars? They’re just shoes! What kind of crap is that?”

 

“Capitalism.” Hanzo murmured dryly under his breath.

 

Hana made a ‘fair enough’ sort of face, then continued ranting.

 

“Even worse, I can’t change my outfit, because I picked out the color scheme for my entire team and changing it now would be just be mean cause everybody _else_ already bought their outfits.” Hana sighed again, “So I’m stuck with it. Not only is the event _super_ long, but I have to walk around for the entire thing! My feet are going to **_die.”_ **

 

Jesse couldn’t help but wince in sympathy. Considering his new job, he was way too familiar with the pain that could come with high heels.

 

“Tell me about it.” He muttered, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Hanzo seemed confused, for a moment, before understanding flickered across his face.Genji snickered at the sullen expression on Jesse’s face, as Lucio offered the cowboy a consoling Danish pastry. Jesse accepted it, because, hey, take what you can get.

 

“Man, that probably hurts.” Lucio half-said, half-chuckled, “Five days a week, right?”

 

“Yeah. I’ve gotten kinda used to it, though,” Jesse shrugged, “but the first day was hell.”

 

“Did you fall?” Genji inquired teasingly, waggling his eyebrows.

 

_“...Maybe.”_

 

The conversation lulled comfortably after that. Largely cause he had yet to realize the _fucking giant, condemning problem_ he just overlooked.

 

“What are you talking about?” Hana asked, her brows lowered in clear confusion, as her puzzled gaze ping ponged between him, Lucio, and the Shimadas.

 

Jesse blinked. He opened his mouth to clarify, when he suddenly realized that Hana wasn’t the only visibly confused person in the room— just about everybody else in the room seemed just as thrown off.

 

For a moment, Jesse was straight up confused by _their_ confusion. Didn’t they all find out about the whole “stripper” thing just yesterday? There was no way everybody just _forgot_ it in the span of a few hours.

 

And then it sunk in.

 

You see, the only people who had actually been at the club were Morrison, Lucio, Hanzo, and Genji. So those four were the only other agents who knew what his uniform was _(hell, they had seen him wearing it)._ If he happened to mention something about the uniform, _they_ would understand what he was talking about, and there was no real harm done. After all, they already knew what the uniform looked like, heels and all. But he had forgotten one key detail: everybody else didn’t.

 

And that was a good thing, actually. Jesse had wanted to keep it at just those four, because the less people who knew about the uniform itself, the better. But, here’s the fucking thing. Here’s the goddamn, motherfucking thing.

 

**_He just talked about it. In front of everyone._ **

 

The realization hit him like a bag of bricks. His eyes started to slowly widen, and Genji whistled lowly, watching Jesse realize the hole he had just dug himself into.

 

“Hey, look, I—” Jesse attempted to steer the conversation far, far away from anything involving him, but it was too late.

 

“Have you worn heels before?” Angela asked, setting down her mug of coffee and leaning forward. She was so genuinely and unassumingly curious that it almost hurt. Jesse’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth opened and closed silently. The look on Torbjorn and Ana’s face indicated that they were already starting to figure it out. He glanced around and realized, with a sinking feeling deep in his gut, that he was surrounded.

 

Hanzo, who was silently watching the disaster play out in front of him, could pinpoint each and every emotion that flashed across the cowboy’s face—nervousness, annoyance, then resignation—before he sighed and relented.

 

“My job.” Jesse muttered rubbing the side of the face.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“My cover job. I wear heels for my cover job.”

 

“Wait.” Hana blinked, then blinked again. She quickly sat up, staring at him as it slowly sank in, “You wear heels for _that_ cover job. Like…… as part of your _outfit?”_

 

“Yup.” He drawled tiredly, tapping the table. The room was silent as everybody took a moment to take that in. As varying expressions of realization blossomed across the room, Jesse knew the silence wouldn’t last long.

 

After about five seconds, everything went to shit.

 

“ _Really?!”_ Lena shouted. Across the room, Jack muttered something about bad decisions and shook his head.

 

“Do you wear them every day?” Hana asked, eyes wide. She was _clearly_ excited to have another person who could related to her footwear-related pain.

 

Jesse held up his hands at the sudden outburst, “Woah, woah. Yeah, I wear them everyday on the job. It’s part of my uniform.”

 

The room was practically buzzing with varying forms of shock. He wasn’t all that surprised, though. Given the cowboy aesthetic he had going, most of the other agents probably wouldn’t have expected it.

 

“Can we see your uniform?” Brigitte interjected curiously, completely unaware of the heart-attack the question was going to give Jesse.

 

He sputtered in surprise, making such a horrified face that Hanzo cruelly snorted with amusement.

 

“ _What?_ **No!** I’m sorry hun, but—”

 

“Aw, c’mon luv! How about just the heels then?” Lena teased, grinning mischievously.

 

“Oh, it won’t hurt. We’re just curious!” Angela smiled, also joining the “let’s end the local cowboy” party, “If you don’t want to show us the high heels, you could at least describe them.”

 

“Yeah.” Genji teased, shit-eating grin plastered across his face as he rested his chin in his hands and looked _way_ too amused, “Describe them.”

 

Jesse flipped him off, then focused his attention on the other agents.

 

“Okay, okay, fine, hold your damn horses.” He muttered, making a ‘calm down’ sort of gesture with his hands, “Whaddya want me to say? They’re just high heels.”

 

It was funny, because despite the indifferent word choice he actually looked suspiciously like he was blushing. He tried to reign himself in. Okay, plan “Don’t talk about it ever” failed. But maybe if he was nonchalant about it they would drop the subject, hopefully.

 

“I mean, they’re nice and all.” Jesse shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck, “All black, except for the red soles.”

 

The description of the heels’ color scheme was just an off handed comment, but with the way the swarm of people around him froze you think he’d just announced that the sky was purple and he was engaged to the Statue of Liberty.

 

“Wait. Hold on, time out.” Lucio made a ‘T’ with his hands, “Do you mean, like, black red-bottom heels?”

 

Jesse frowned, “Uh, yeah. Why? Haven’t you seen the heels before?”

 

“Well, yeah, but it wasn’t like I was looking closely!” Lucio pointed out. Fair enough. He didn’t want the dj looking at all, but you can’t change the past.

 

Lena fished out her phone and began typing away. After a brief pause, she turned the screen towards Jesse.

 

“Do they look like this? With the same logo?”

 

He looked down the screen, which had the image of a pair black high heels with red soles. The insole was a cream-ish color, with a fancy gold logo of a probably-French word starting with an L. The shoes were the exact same pair he had.

 

“Yeah. That’s it. Same logo and everything.” He said, still a bit puzzled over all the fussing.

 

“Jesse, **_mein gott_ ** _.”_ Angela whispered, grin spreading across her face, “You wear Louboutins.”

 

“I guess so? Why’s that such a big deal?” Jesse frowned, puzzled by all the fussing.

 

“Louboutins are expensive _as_ hell.” Hana stated matter-of-factly, “And your employer is just _giving_ you them for free. Well, it’s part of a uniform. And you’re working there. But as long as you work there you have those shoes, and you could wear them whenever you wanted!”

 

Even Ana looked impressed, “You must work at a _very_ well funded club, Jesse.”

 

“You can say that again.” He scoffed. Just by _looking_ at the place, you could tell its budget was through the roof.

 

“But, while we’re talking about your undercover job, I’ve been meaning to ask you...” Ana’s voice suddenly got dangerously pleasant. Now, that probably seems like an oxymoron, but Jesse knew better. He had heard her speak with that tone of voice enough times to know that itwas the calm before the storm. He tensed up, mind immediately going into red alert.

 

Ana weaved her hands together and placed them on the table, staring intently at Jesse, “What, exactly, do you do in that job?”

 

Hmm. Yeah, okay, no, he wasn’t talking about that.

 

Time to **_leave. Now._ **

 

“OH, uh, **_well.”_ ** Jesse stammered out. He held up his hands instinctively, as if he could physically push the question away, and shot to his feet. He pushed his chair back and started inching away,  “that...that’s a good question.”

 

Ana wasn’t falling for it. She stood up, hands on her hips and a deadly serious look on her face. Jesse looked down at his bare wrist, which currently did not have a watch on it.

 

“Hey, look at the time! I should **really** get going so uh **BYE.** ”

 

“Listen here, Jesse McCree—!”

 

He was already halfway out the door.

 

———————————

 

This was torture.

 

Alright, okay, maybe Genji was being over dramatic. It wasn’t _torture,_ but it was kind of fucking difficult to deal with. Ever since he came back for the undercover mission, Jesse had been a little….different.

 

Parts of Jesse’s cover job were bleeding into his everyday habits and even the smallest mannerisms, and it was starting to drive Genji **_crazy._ **

 

For one, Jesse put a little more _oomph_ into his step when he walked. That is to say, he swung his hips more. If Genji had to guess, it was probably cause a large chunk of the cover job was just being as desirable as possible, and a little hip sway could go a long way in looking hot. (and, also, he always kinda walked like that.)

 

You think something like that wouldn’t be such a big deal, but **_no._** It could strike any moment. The two of them could be having a normal conversation, but then Jesse would get up and walk somewhere, and _bam._ Every time Jesse walked past, Genji would get distracted by the cowboy’s stupid fucking swaying hips and how _good_ it made his ass look.

 

And then at one point, Genji made the mistake of slinging his arm around Jesse. It was an innocent, casual motion— hell, he had done it while things were feeling completely normal between them. But then, by some godforsaken newly developed muscle memory, Jesse had cocked his hips _just so_ and leaned into the touch, pressing the side of his chest against Genji, and utterly destroyed any semblance of casualness.

 

The worst part was that Jesse didn’t seem to realize what he was doing. So when Genji jolted away, face flushing slightly red, the cowboy had just looked at him with a confused, unaware tilt to his head.

 

But Genji was trying _so, so hard_ to not make it weird. Yeah, maybe Jesse was a _sinfully hot_ stripper, but so what? Just cause his brain kept trying to bring up forbidden thoughts and wet-dream worthy mental images didn’t mean their friendship was changed in anyway. Right?

 

It was just a natural reaction. Jesse was an attractive guy, and they were really close friends, so it made sense that Genji’s mind and body would react to him in this way. Yeah, it was cool. He just….wouldn’t think too hard about it. Jesse was still the same ol’ Jesse. Except he saw him in fishnets and high heels and a corset and— **_goddammit._ **

 

Yeah, okay.

 

Zenyatta would be coming back from a brief trip to Nepal that afternoon, so perhaps he would be able to get some guidance. The monk had helped Genji through very dark times, so maybe he would be able to help him sort out whatever this was.

 

Then again, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually talk about it, considering that he was currently refusing to even _think_ about it. If he did, though, Zenyatta was going to have a field day trying to guide him through this.

 

Long story short, Genji would really appreciate any sort of distraction.

 

So when Mei had asked if the not-busy agents on base could help her move some equipment currently stored in the airplane hangar into her lab, he offered to help in a heartbeat. First off, he actually did want to help, but it also doubled as a way to hopefully distract himself. Sure, just about everybody not currently busy— _including_ **_Jesse_ ** _—_ offered to help out too, but as long as he had something else to focus on, the cyborg figured he’d be okay.

 

But then Jesse bent over to pick up something he dropped.

 

Either that stupid strip club was teaching Jesse how to bend over as distractingly as possible, or Genji had just never noticed until now.

 

When Jesse bent at the waist, hips back and legs straightened in a way that put all the attention on his ass, Genji knew right then and there he was doomed.

 

Alright, _maybe_ the day got off to a bit of a rocky start, but Jesse was in a good mood. And if you asked him, why, he’d probably say that it was cause he got to wear pants for the _entire fucking day._

 

Sure, that sounds “stupid”, but after spending almost every single evening for the last week walking around in what was basically a glorified one-piece swimsuit and fishnet stockings, you learn to appreciate pants. Or, you know, actual clothing. Either way, it was nice not being nearly half naked. Gotta appreciate the little things in life, ya know?

 

Jesse hummed under his breath, plunking down a big ol’ box of black wires on the airplane hangar workbench. He wasn’t entirely sure what they were for, but Mei said they were kinda important.

 

And, alright, here’s the thing — Mei was a mighty smart scientist, and a good friend, but **_damn_ ,**she could be awkward.

 

When Jesse offered to help her move around some of the old lab equipment kept in the hangar, he had forgotten about the whole laundry fiasco that happened yesterday. Unfortunately, Mei had not. She had seen part of his uniform— the worst part of it, actually: the teddy — and so whenever they interacted, she was either flustered, apologetic, or a combination of the two.

 

He was broken out his thoughts when he stepped away from the bench and his foot brushed against a holopad on the ground.

 

“Huh. Where’d this thing come from?” Jesse muttered to himself, frowning down at it. He bent over to pick up, grasping at the thin edges of the device, and heard a sudden sharp inhalation, the a loud clang, behind him.

 

Jesse stood up and turned around just in time to see Genji scrambling to stop a computer from plummeting to the ground. Thankfully, he was able to get a hold of it and place it back on its table.

 

“Nice.” Jesse drawled teasingly, as Genji’s eyes flicked towards him. The cyborg’s face was kind of red, but that was probably just cause of adrenaline of sudden-death computer catching, or whatever.

 

Genji pretended to overreact an attempt to be smooth, leaning on his elbow against a stack of boxes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Jesse scoffed fondly, picking up a stray oil rag and throwing it at the cyborg, who casually dodged the projectile.

 

“Do you have any idea what this stuff is supposed to do?” He asked, gesturing at the equipment strewn about them as he joined Genji by the boxes.

 

“Not really, but I suspect some it still has logs of Overwatch’s environmental data from before the fall. Or maybe not. I doubt anyone else really knows either.”

 

Genji glanced around at the other agents within the hangar. Lena had gotten herself wrapped up in a tangle of dusty wires, which Mei and Torbjorn were currently trying to undo.

 

“Except for Mei, of course.” He amended, watching said scientist valiantly try to rescue Lena. He sideyed Jesse for a moment, “Speaking of Mei…”

 

Jesse sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“Yeah, yeah, she’s been kinda weird about it this whole time. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a sweetheart, but she’s making it more awkward than it has to be.” The cowboy paused, and made a face, “Then again, she probably sees me a whole different way now.”

 

Genji chuckled, trying to make it sound normal and not like nervous chuckling, because _that_ sentence hit a little too close to home. Mei wasn’t the only one to see Jesse in a new light because of a skimpy piece of fabric.

 

Thankfully, than train of thought was interrupted by Hanzo coming their way, lugging a box-shaped, heavy looking machine.

 

“What is that?” Genji muttered, eyeing it curiously.

 

“Outdated printer.” Hanzo grunted as he set the machine down, pushing it against the side of another cardboard box. “Mei hopes to salvage a few spare parts from it.”

 

“Don’t know about that. That thing looks _old.”_ Jesse raised his eyebrows, and Hanzo simply gave him a noncommittal shrug. He wiped the dust off his hands, subtly ignoring prolonged eye contact with Jesse.

 

The cowboy didn’t notice, but he did suddenly fall silent, lost in thought. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, and both Shimada brothers gave him a slightly confused look, wondering what he was spacing out for.

 

Jesse bit the inside of cheek, then sighed.

 

The reason he suddenly checked out of the conversation was that _another_ person —Hana this time, just a few feet away— was staring at him. If it was any other weekend, he’d assumed that she just happened to be dissociating while looking in his general direction, but this was not any normal weekend.

 

All throughout today, people would randomly stop and curiously stare at him, obviously thinking about the whole “stripper” thing. And it was even _more_ obvious that everyone was itching to hear more about it. Nobody had tried to actually bring it up again, probably because they didn’t want to be overbearing, so that was nice. But it was pretty fucking clear that they were curious.

 

By now, he was considering just giving in. It was getting kinda old, not gonna lie. And honestly, it couldn’t hurt to answer a few questions. He actually didn’t mind talking about it that much, as long he didn’t have to give _too_ many details away.

 

What else of his dignity did he have left to lose?

 

Well, no, there was plenty left. None of them—aside from his team—had actually _seen_ him wearing the uniform, thank fuck for that. But there wasn’t anything bad about answering a few questions, especially since everybody already knew about it. Right? **_Right?_ **

 

And you know what? Yeah, he was a stripper. And maybe it was a sort of awkward conversation topic, but _yeah, he was gonna fucking talk about it!_ ….Within reason, of course.

 

“I think it’s time to give in.” Jesse announced, sighing slightly.

 

Genji and Hanzo looked at him with total bewilderment, utterly confused as to what the fuck he was talking about. Oh, right, he forgot about context.

 

“I’ve been avoiding mentioning bout my cover job for a while now, but at this point I might as well talk about it.” Jesse clarified.

 

Both Shimadas immediately thought something along the lines of, _‘oh_ **_fuck’._ **

 

“It’s pretty clear that almost everyone else is itching to ask about it, so might as well.” The cowboy shrugged. He glanced back at Hana, who was now slowly approaching, visibly on the verge of saying something.

 

Jesse huffed to himself, somewhere between exasperated and amused, and turned towards the MEKA pilot.

 

“Got a question?”

 

He already knew the answer— of course she did, he’d have to be blindfolded to not notice — but he figured it was the best way to get her to spit it out. If anything, it was just roundabout way of saying “go-ahead”.

 

Hana lit up with excitement upon realizing that, and Lucio’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

 

“Well, okay,” Hana pursed her lips, trying to put thoughts into words, “were you serious when you said you wear high heels as part of your uniform? Like, all the time?”

 

“Yeah, I was serious.” Jesse huffed with amusement. They just kept coming back to this, huh. “Would I really willingly make up something like that? And then _tell everybody?”_

 

“No, probably not. But it’s just….you’re already so **_tall.”_ **

 

Jesse had a retort ready on the tip of his tongue, but Lucio suddenly threw his hands up, startling the cowboy into brief silence.

 

“ **_Finally,_** somebody gets it! He’s like, what, 6 feet tall?” Lucio declared, “I mean sure, anybody can wear heels, but nobody asked you to be a _skyscraper,_ Eastwood.”

 

Jesse had been called a lot of things before, but _“skyscraper”_ was a new one.

 

Brigitte, who had apparently been listening in, started to snicker, trying to hide her laughter behind his hand. Hana was far less subtle and outright laughed at the comment.

 

“Hey, okay,” Jesse broke into chuckles, unable to help himself, “maybe you’re just short, Lucio.”

 

“No, you’re **_tall!_ ** _”_

 

“If it would make you feel any better,” Reinhardt placed a consoling hand on Lucio’s shoulder, nearly knocking all the breath out of the dj, “I find everyone here short.”

 

By now, just about everyone in the hangar had overheard the conversation, and more than a few were stopping to listen in. After a moment, Lena zipped over in a trail of blue, with a spark in her eyes that instantly made Jesse suspicious. The pilot paused to settle down for a second, then cleared her throat.

 

“So, Jesse, since you’re answering questions and all that…” Lena had on a toothy grin as she rocked back on her heels, “...You were fine with _telling_ us about the high heels, right? So if you don’t want to _show_ us your uniform, you could just **describe it,** right?”

 

Genji froze in the middle of stretching out his arms, at the same time Hanzo’s entire body tensed.

 

“ **Nope.** ” Jesse blurted out before Lena even had a chance to finish. He made a big X with his arms in front of him, “Abso-fucking-lutely not. Not a chance in hell, sweetheart. I’ll answer _anything_ except a question about my uniform.”

 

He sent a pointed look at Ana, “And anything else I’d rather yall not know about.”

 

“Aw, whaaaat? That’s not fair!”

 

Lena pouted and looked at Jesse with imploring eyes, but the cowboy stubbornly kept his mouth shut. She huffed in defeat, but it didn’t last for long. A metaphorical light bulb quickly went off in her head, and her eyes lit up.

 

“Well, I don’t have to ask **_you_** to find out!” Lena declared, “Last I checked, there’s about four eye witnesses.”  

 

Jesse, and three of said eye witnesses who were currently there, jumped in surprise. Oh, _shit._

 

Lena turned towards Lucio, who immediately held his hands up and fervently shook his head. He wasn’t getting involved in that, hope, no thank you. Also, he wasn’t a snitch.

 

As for Hanzo...

 

 **“No.”** Hanzo stated bluntly when the pilot’s expectant gaze landed on him, cutting Lena off before she could even open her mouth.

 

With those two refusing to answer, that left Genji. Lena turned towards said man with pleading eyes. The cyborg blanched in surprise, blinking repeatedly.

 

“Lena, look—”  He began, holding ups his hands.

 

“Oh, come on, a few details aren’t gonna hurt!”

 

Jesse made direct, wide-eyed eye contact with Genji, rapidly shaking his head in a clear signal to not say anything. The cowboy mouthed something along the lines of _‘Don’t you dare’_ over and over.

 

While the idea of being an asshole was kinda tempting, Genji wasn’t going to give Jesse’s secrets away. Because first of all, that was a dick move. And secondly, he didn’t even want to think about said secrets.

 

It was moments like these that made Genji wish he carried his faceplate with him. Without it or any sort of thing to cover his face, he wasn’t able to hide his face as a vivid stream of wet dream worthy, distinctly **_not-platonic_** thoughts rushed through his head.

 

Genji fought back a flustered blush and mentally reset himself. He immediately banished that part of his brain from his mind, essentially trying to take all those forbidden mental images and shoving them under a metaphorical rug.

 

It wasn’t weird for him or anything. Nah, it was cool. He just….wouldn’t think too hard about it. So what if Jesse was a ( _sinfully. fucking. hot)_ stripper? He was still the same ol’ Jesse. Except in fishnets and high heels and— **_not this time, self._ **

 

Genji decided to answer the question as he normally would have: honestly, but with a noticeable amount of teasing. Because what fun was life if you didn’t make fun of your friends every now and then?

 

“Sorry Lena, but my lips are sealed.” The cyborg mimed zipping his lips shut, as Jesse let out an audible sigh of relief.

 

“HAH! Take that.” The cowboy whooped as Lena groaned, “And guess what? Ya can’t even ask Morrison. I made him swear last night that he wouldn’t give anything else away.”

 

Jesse put his hands on his hips, practically gloating with victory.

 

“But,” Genji suddenly tacked on, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. Time to be a little shit, “I’ll tell you this — Jesse looks _good_ in that uniform.”

 

The comment prompted another round of laughter, and thankfully, nobody seemed to notice that he wasn’t lying in the slightest when he said that. Oddly enough, though, Hanzo remained dead silent, fidgeting ever so slightly.

 

Jesse froze, eyes slightly wide and face turning just a _bit_ red, before he snapped back to normal and scoffed fondly.

 

“Hah. Shut it, Shimada.”

 

Genji waggled his eyebrows and winked at the cowboy, who just smiled and rolled his eyes. And that was that.

 

Except it wasn’t.

 

Technically, all that was nothing out of the ordinary. Playful, fake flirting was essentially a trademark of their friendship— it had started a little after Genji had began to settle in more in Blackwatch, and it carried on to this day. Yet, suddenly, the flirting was starting to feel a little….less fake.

 

They both chose to ignore it.

 

“It doesn’t particularly matter _now,_ but, why didn’t you message us about the whole ‘stripper’ thing earlier?” Hanzo interjected, in an effort to talk about something else aside from that sinfully unholy uniform.

 

Jesse had been pretty mysterious about his job up until they actually went to the club in person. The question as to _why_ he had done that had been nagging him for a while, though he had a general idea of the answer.

 

Then again, now that he knew, he understood why the cowboy was a little reluctant.

 

“Guess I just wanted to avoid my inevitable doom.” Jesse sighed, “Y’all found out anyway though, so yeah, it was kinda pointless.”

 

“....I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is this like a _job-_ job?” Brigitte piped up, popping into the conversation with curiosity.

 

“Whaddya mean?”

 

“Is it like a 9 to 5, or…?”

 

“Oh, no. It’s a nightclub, so I work in the evenings. But, I mean, it’s a normal job.” Jesse chuckled slightly. He then paused, reconsidering, “Normal as it can get, I reckon. I get paid an’ all that.”

 

“How much?”

 

“Oh, honey, I get paid a _whole fucking lot.”_ He grinned, “Not gonna lie, anybody working there for real is pretty lucky. The pay is the **best** part of the job. I have a set paycheck, but I also get to keep the majority of the tips I get.”

 

“Tips are more of a customer service thing, are they not?” Angela asked, confusion visible on her face. “How would you get tips?”

 

The cowboy was quiet, regarding Angela with a cynical raised eyebrow. After a beat, he huffed with amusement at some hidden joke.

 

“Customer service.” Jesse answered dryly, vaguely amused, “What else?”

 

There was a slight pause of confusion at Jesse’s cryptic answer. Then, right after that, a much longer and awkwarder pause as the implication sunk in and everyone realized what Jesse was hinting at.

 

Oh.

 

**_Customer service._ **

 

Hanzo and Genji exchanged a wide-eyed, bewildered look, as Reinhardt awkwardly coughed into his fist.

 

Jesse burst into laughter, unable to help himself. There was nothing quite as funny as people so utterly bewildered they didn’t know what to say.

 

“Hey, I’d probably react the same.” He chuckled, crossing his arms, “But, it’s not exactly what—”

 

Jesse was interrupted by a loud clang from somewhere within the hangar, quickly followed by a loud shriek. Everyone scattered across the airplane hangar paused to exchange startled glances, then quickly looked up at the source of the noise.

 

It had come from the upper deck of the airplane hangar, and from the sound of it, was from none other than Mei.

 

“Is everything alright?” Ana asked in concern, raising her voice so that it carried up to the upper deck.

 

There were a few softer clatters, and then Mei peeked over the upper deck’s railing.

 

“It’s nothing, we just dropped something!” Mei called down placatingly at the group below. She smiled sheepishly, “But we could use some help.”

 

“We’re trying to move it onto the lift, but it’s heavier than I remembered.” She pointed behind her, and then at the equipment lift (which was essentially a small open-air elevator) attached to the side of the deck, “We just need one more person, so if anybody…”

 

“I’m on it, be there in a second.” Jesse said, already heading towards the stairs leading up to the deck.

 

“Oh, you don’t have to—” Mei started to say, sounding oddly apologetic, before Jesse realized she was still hung up on accidentally stumbling through his laundry yesterday.

 

“Nah, nah, it’s fine.” Jesse waved her off as he made his way up the stairs, his shoes clicking against the metallic material. He reached the top of the staircase quickly enough, walking onto the deck to check out the situation.

 

Morrison and Mei were around a metallic machine, that was humming quietly and probably reached up to his lower thighs. Just from looking at it, the thing was pretty heavy, and was probably hard to get a grip on, so it was no wonder that two people might struggle with it.

 

Even though one of them was Jack, who had the whole SEP thing going on.

 

Thankfully, a third person helped out just enough to get the machine off the ground, After a little bit of maneuvering, they were able to heave it onto the lift without any sudden disasters. Mei pressed a button on the touchscreen pad next to the lift, and it began to carry its added baggage down to the ground. After Mei thanked him (while still a little bit awkward about yesterday), she and Morrison headed towards the stairs. Their job here was done.

 

But it was ironic, really, that there was a mini elevator for equipment, but no elevator at all for humans to get up and down from the deck. The only way to get up and down from the upper deck was to take the stairs.

 

Actually, that wasn’t entirely true.

 

There was only one to get up there, but two ways to come down. You see, the upper deck had a fireman’s pole on it, that lead all the way down to the ground. It served as a quicker way for people to get down from the deck, and, once you got used to it, was apparently even easier than taking the stairs.

 

Jesse glanced at the fireman’s pole for a moment, then thought, _ah fuck it, why not?_ It’s not like he was a stranger to poles anymore. Cause, ya know, the cover job.

 

Someone else might have been worried about gravity kicking in and sending them crashing to the floor, but Jesse wasn’t. Given how much pole training his personal trainer had put him through, this would be nothing. If he could do a bunch of fancy-ass tricks and spins and dismounts, he could slide down the pole. Besides, that was the easy stuff anyway.

 

With that in mind, Jesse removed the safety cover on the hole around the pole. He stepped up to the fireman’s pole and grabbed it with both hands. In one fluid movement, he jumped onto it, wrapping his calves around the pole, and began the smooth descent downwards.

 

As Jesse slid down into the open air above the floor, he heard someone give a little ‘huh’ of surprise. He paid it no mind, though, because to be fair, most people, like Mei and Morrison, tended to use the stairs.

 

It was all in all just a normal descent down the fireman’s pole, but muscle memory began to kick in as he reached the bottom. Without paying much thought to it, Jesse absentmindedly unhooked and kicked out with his legs, using the momentum to spin around the pole and then step into a twirling dismount. The movement was practically reflexive at this point, given that it was definitely one of his favorite dismounts — simple, but flashy in its own way.

 

Jesse stepped away from the pole, ready to go about his business, when he realized that for the millionth time that day, people were staring at him.

 

“What?” Caught off guard by the sudden attention, he glanced around. Oh, fuck, what did he do this time?

 

Ana’s mouth was hanging all the way open, just like Hana and Reinhardt and...just about everyone, really. Genji looked so utterly shell-shocked, Jesse couldn’t help but wonder if he had accidentally insulted the man somehow.

 

“Holy _crap.”_ Lucio declared suddenly, eyes big and bright with fascination. He pointed vigorously at Jesse, “That was so **_COOL!_ ** Do that again!”

 

Jesse frowned.

 

“Do _what_ again?”

 

“You know! **_That!”_ ** Lucio gestured wildly at the pole beside Jesse, at the same time as Hana jumped to life and nodded enthusiastically.

 

The cowboy simply looked at them in pure confusion, question marks practically floating around his head. It wasn’t until Hanzo spoke up that Jesse realized what he had done.

 

“I—you— you know _._ How to…. _how to_ **_pole dance.”_ **

 

It was more like a statement than a question. Hanzo spoke falteringly, the ends of his words short and clipped. You could hear and _feel_ the strain in his voice. The man sounded like he was in physical pain.

 

The words made Jesse realize what he had just done, eyes widening and face turning red. For a moment, his heart plummeted to his stomach, and the familiar feeling of overwhelming embarrassment raced down his spine. But he pushed it back as best as he could. Jesse glanced at the pole, then rubbed the back of neck self-consciously. He was embarrassed, yeah, but at this point his attitude about the whole situation was just to accept shit as it happened.

 

“Uh. Yeah.” The cowboy smiled nervously, and nodded, “Y’know. Cause of the job.”

 

Oof. And there it was. A few eyebrows shot up at that, but thankfully nobody said anything. Genji, however, made some odd, strangled choking noise.

 

Jesse was _painfully_ aware of how incriminating this was.

 

“They taught you?” Ana probed, narrowing her eyes.

 

“Yeah, they have a professional trainer for all the new workers there.” Jesse said, resisting the urge to shy away. By the hand of some merciful higher power, Ana seemed to be mollified by the fact that he was being giving professional guidance.

 

“So you’re learning how pole dance for _real?”_ Brigitte asked, seemingly impressed by Jesse’s show of skill like Lucio and Hana, “And you do it on the job? Professional, genuine pole dancing?”

 

He hesitated, then nodded wordlessly.

 

“Whaaat? That’s kickass love, why didn’t you tell us?” Lena clamored excitedly, “How many tricks do ya know?”

 

Jesse blinked, taken aback by the surge of enthusiasm.

 

Huh.

 

While he was a bit confused, he was also very, very thankful for it. Jesse appreciated the confidence boost, because even if he was a lil bit embarrassed by it at least the others thought it was cool. Honestly, if this went anything like what happened yesterday in the lounge, his face would've burned hot enough to fry an egg.

 

After a moment of mulling it over, Jesse decided to he’d give them what they wanted.

 

“What I can do, huh?” He wrapped one forearm around the pole, leaning onto his shoulder. His question got some rather enthusiastic nods, “Well, there’s plenty a’ little things that I’ve learned by now, like…”

 

Jesse executed a dip turn, swinging around the pole with one foot on the ground. Keeping his momentum, he transitioned into a tray table pirouette, which was more or less a fancy-looking move where he held the pole and twirled in place.

 

When he was done, he casually turned towards his impromptu audience. The reaction varied differently from person to person, but there was a general undercurrent of being impressed (though Genji _was_ starting to look oddly pale).

 

Hana practically had stars in her eyes.

 

“How do you do that so _casually?”_ She wondered aloud, almost reverently, “There’s _no way_ I’d be able to do that twirl thing so easily.”

 

“Not like I was any better. Nobody gets it just right on the first time, trust me. I fucked it up so badly my trainer looked like she was about to start crying.” Jesse snickered at the memory, “But everyone gets the hang of it eventually. at least, I did. It’s pretty easy now.”

 

“I still think it was pretty fancy.” Angela declared with a smile, also mesmerized by the unique elegance of pole dancing. But her statement made Jesse raised an eyebrow in challenge.

 

“You think that was fancy?” The cowboy mused, lips quirking into a smirk. He turned slightly, pressing the back of his shoulder into the pole, “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Check _this_ out.”

 

With only that as a warning, Jesse reached up and behind to grasp the pole, and lifted his legs up into the air. The momentum let him flip his body upside down, and hook one leg around the pole with a clean twist. He extended one leg out in the same direction, while pushing with one hand to hold his body straight out at an angle. Even as he held the position, it was clear he hadn’t even broke a sweat as he waved up at them with his free hand. For good measure, Jesse threw in a wink.

 

A few minds were blown.

 

Torbjorn seeming so utterly amazed it was genuinely funny. The man seemed to say something, but it was lost in the sound of Lucio and Lena cheering loudly at the same time. Ana just seemed downright impressed, along with a few others.

 

After a few seconds, Jesse dismounted, swinging his legs back down to the ground to stand upright. The cowboy laughed, and gave a little bow when Brigitte began to enthusiastically golf-clap.

 

“Ok, Eastwood, no joke, that was _insane._ Holy shit.” Lucio stated, dumbfounded, “My mind is genuinely blown right now.”

 

The conversation diverged to something along those lines, but Genji stopped paying attention at that point. He was more preoccupied with wishing he could’ve been as **_innocently_ ** amazed as everyone else.

 

The vents on his shoulders snapped open, letting out a hot puff of steam that did nothing to alleviate the heat under his skin. He stared at Jesse, utterly transfixed with what he just seen. He would have said it was impressive — it really was — had it not been for the fact that it was the _worst possible thing that could’ve happened._

 

This was the _last_ thing he needed right now, especially when he was trying to get all his confusing feelings about Jesse under control. And now his stupid brain was flooding with the distracting thought of Jesse, and pole dancing, and that damn _uniform,_ and oh _god, oh_ **_fuck,_ ** this was bad, _this was bad._ This was so. Fucking. **Bad.**

 

Try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about those long, long legs. Jesse looked way too good doing that in normal, run-of-the-mill clothing...so, oh _fucking shit,_ what would he look like doing that in the uniform? Obviously, some part of him had known that Jesse’s job probably entailed something like it, but he had refused to even think about it up until now. But not only did he find out the truth, but he had _seen_ it too. Even the imagined mental image was too much for Genji’s currently hormonal brain to handle. Jesse, all long longs and swaying hips and unreasonably hot ass and—

 

Genji paused as the sound of splintering wood (or something like it) reached his ears. His gaze dropped to the source of the sound, only to see that his fingers had broken straight into the wooden crate he’d been leaning on. With a very slow blink, he retracted his hand from the innocent crate.

 

Well, this just about summed up his current emotional state.

 

He turned towards Hanzo, a weary quip on the tip of his tongue, only to notice that the archer was nowhere in sight. Genji frowned in confusion, glancing around for his brother. A quick scan over the people in the hangar found Hanzo _aaaaallll_ the way over by the older datapads and wires.

 

The man was going through a pile of wires like mad, quickly grabbing equipment and tossing it into a box labeled ‘junk’. The thing was, at the furious speed Hanzo was going through the pile, he was barely even sparing the equipment anything longer than a glance.

 

Mei was watching the archer awkwardly, having clearly decided to not say anything about his poor sorting methods. Based off the looks of it, Hanzo was obviously working through something at the moment. Or trying extremely hard to get his mind off of something.

 

Genji had a creeping suspicion that he knew what that something was.

 

All this was pushed aside when he realized Jesse was coming his way. The cyborg8s eyes went wide as he internally rushed to collect himself. It was, honestly, unfair. He needed _waaaaaaay_ more time than that to get his scrambled mush-of-a-brain together. But he managed to pull himself together anyway.

 

Even better, he was able to greet Jesse like a normal person instead of staring at him like some sort of horny pubescent monkey.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me you learned how to pole dance?” Okay, maybe he wasn’t _that_ collected yet.

 

Jesse gave him a deadpan stare, then wordlessly raised an eyebrow.

 

“Ah. Good point.” Genji muttered, hoping that the blush on his face wasn’t as evident as he thought it was, “But you seem more comfortable with it now.”

 

“Huh. Yeah. I guess I am.” Jesse’s lips quirked into a nearly bashful smile as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I mean, I’m still kinda embarrassed, but…”

 

Genji totally did **_NOT_ ** find Jesse’s little lopsided smile absolutely fucking cute. He felt oddly conscious of how close the cowboy was. He pushed it out of his mind, instead focusing on what was just said.

 

“That’s good. Don’t get me wrong, Jesse, you’re cute when you’re embarrassed...” Genji winked playfully. It was a force of habit. The cowboy just scoffed fondly, shaking his head, “But I’m glad you’re starting to feel more comfortable with it.”

 

He finished truthfully. Even though it came at the expense of his own sanity, he was glad Jesse felt a little less insecure about the whole stripper thing. After mulling it over for a moment, he patted Jesse on the arm.

 

“Pole dancing _is_ pretty kickass.”

 

Jesse snorted, then laughed, caught off guard by that last sentence. He playfully punched Genji in the shoulder— the flesh one, because the metal one would’ve hurt like a bitch. But soon after that his expression softened, molding into something else.

 

“Thanks, Gen.” He said gratefully. After all, it’s reassurance from your closest friends that really help you feel better. He grinned, big and affectionate, as he addressed Genji with that little pet name he had used even back in Blackwatch.

 

Jesse’s bright smile made Genji’s heart do a sudden yet familiar flip-flop, the feeling of it just as strong as the burning heat in his chest.

 

…

 

Oh.

 

Wait.

 

**_Oh._ **

 

Genji’s hand automatically came up towards his chest, before stopping halfway.

 

_Did he…?_

 

He froze, eyes going minutely wide. His brain started to race a mile a minute, as he desperately mulled over the feeling in his chest. Okay, alright, what did he know about it?

 

Well, first off, it wasn’t a foreign feeling. He had always felt a little twinge in his chest whenever Jesse smiled at him. Jesse’s smiles were like the sun, dazzling and bright, and they always made him feel warm inside. But he’d always chalked it off as mere friendly affection for the cowboy, because it was completely normal to be a little out of breath when your friend smiled at you.

 

Yup, completely normal.

 

But with how he’d started to see Jesse _differently_ nowadays, he realized that the familiar sensation of his heart doing a little dance at the sigh of that smile just might mean something more than “platonic affection”. It definitely didn’t help that it happened at the same time as heat blazed under his skin for Jesse, a heat Genji was slowly starting to acknowledge as probably….. genuine attraction.

 

To be completely honest, puberty had really put Genji on the hornier end of the spectrum. And he was keenly aware of that, so he had thought at first that his sudden attraction to Jesse was just hormones being hormones. Genji had always liked attractive people, and Jesse just happened to be attractive.

 

But the way Jesse’s smile made his heart flip flop just now? He only noticed it _now,_ but in retrospect, it had been going on since forever. Ever since he met Jesse, now that he thought about it.

 

It dawned on him so suddenly that a punch in the face would’ve been more merciful.

 

There was a very high chance that his “sudden” attraction to Jesse was not hormones, but _genuine_ attraction. And there was an equally high chance that it was not as sudden as he thought. Most likely, these feelings had been real for quite some time now.

 

As soon as that thought hit him, Genji’s stomach sank down into the floor, in time with his heart pounding in his ears. Out of sheer survival instinct, his face went entirely blank, hiding any trace of what he was thinking.

 

“...enji? Hey, you still in there?”

 

He came back to the realm of the living in with jarring whiplash, as a hand snapped loudly right in front of his face. Somebody was talking to him. _Jesse_ was talking to him. Or, rather, _trying_ to. With an unbelievable amount of willpower, Genji managed to ground himself. He leaned away from Jesse’s hand, making the cowboy realize that he was no longer dissociating off into the void.

 

“Welcome back to earth, took you long enough.” Jesse jibed lightheartedly, retracting his hand, “So, care to tell me why your brain fell off the face of the earth for a solid two minutes?”

 

Genji stared blankly at the man before him. Jesse was a familiar face. He knew the cowboy well. But now, all of a sudden, he had become foreign territory. And for the first time in a _looooong_ time, Genji felt almost like Jesse was a stranger. He genuinely didn’t know how to act around him.

 

Jesse, in the meanwhile, was waiting for the cyborg to respond. He placed his hands on his hips, shifting his weight onto one round hip and cocking it out to the side. A single cynical eyebrow raised, accompanied by an amused, lopsided grin.

 

“It was nothing important.”

 

“Hmm.” Jesse eyes him skeptically, then shrugged, “If you say so.”

 

Genji nodded, the movement jerky and faltering. His eyes flitted up and down Jesse’s body, before finally resting on the cowboy’s face.

 

He was in such deep, **_deep_** shit.

 

———————————

 

“Hello Genji, it is nice to see you again. How ar—”

 

_“HellomasterhowwasyourtripyesI’mfineanywaycanItalkwithyourightnowactually?”_

 

Zenyatta stopped mid wave.

 

He lowered his hand, silently looking at a wide eyed, near heaving Genji. The cyborg didn’t say anything else after his outburst either, so the next few moments were entirely silent as the two just stared at each other. Neither of them moved, as the monk seemed to be processing what just occurred. The contrast between the two of  them would probably be pretty funny to a bystander, with him looking like he was a few minutes away from hysterics and Zenyatta’s silent, composed demeanor.

 

Genji realized then that _maybe_ he should’ve pumped the brakes a little bit.

 

“.......Ah.” Zenyatta noted.

 

A wave of guilt and embarrassment washed over Genji. He tried to pull himself together, and quickly gave a slight bow in apology.

 

“Forgive me, master,” He fumbled over the words, “I didn’t mean to….you just got off the plane and—”

 

“It’s alright, Genji.” Zenyatta said understandingly, even though he sounded vaguely amused, “It’s clear there is something heavy weighing on your mind right now.”

 

Zenyatta had quite literally _just_ come back from Nepal — he hadn’t even got off the plane’s ramp before Genji was rushing to him in a frazzled, barely coherent whirlwind. If anything, he had a feeling the cyborg had asked Athena to alert him first upon his arrival.

 

Now, the monk had seen many different sides of Genji during his journey to find inner peace...but this was new.  At least, he had never seen him seem so frazzled, or near hysterics with something that wasn’t anger. Genji was without his helmet, so one could easily see how he was wide eyed, face slightly flushed  and chest heaving from either the exertion of getting to the plane so quickly or something else entirely.

 

It truly was obvious that he had something he desperately needed some sort of guidance or advice for.

 

“If it is not too much to ask right now, could I speak with you about something that has been...troubling me?”

 

“Of course.” Zenyatta dipped his head, wondering what could possibly have his pupil so riled up, “Would you like to talk in the gardens?”

 

Genji just nodded quickly, the motion jerky and sharp, and headed in the direction of the gardens alongside Zenyatta.

 

It was routine for them to meditate in the Watchpoint’s gardens. The gardens served their purpose well. They were serene and quite beautiful, so it offered the perfect spot for something like meditation. Zenyatta figured that being in a peaceful place such as that would help Genji collect himself, or at least be able to calmly talk about his problem.

 

Genji seemed rather troubled. Even though he was technically walking with Zenyatta, he was constantly slightly ahead because of his brisk pace. He said nothing the entire way to the gardens, as if he was lost in thought. Or maybe he was just that freaked out. Could be either, really.

 

They made their way to the usual place, which was near a pond near the center of the garden, in the middle of a sunny, circular clearing ringed with bushes and flowers. Genji made no move to sit down, instead staying upright and _trying_ to stand still. He turned towards Zenyatta, finding the monk looking at him patiently.

 

“You can talk whenever you are comfortable doing so, Genji.” Zenyatta said, voice calm and soothing in a way that was, frankly, pretty helpful right about now.

 

“No, no, it’s not as if I’m not comfortable, I just….” He trailed off, shoulders tense as he tried to put thoughts into words, “...I do not know where to start.”

 

He really didn’t. Genji had absolutely no clue how to even approach the subject, which would be the fucking earth shattering realization that had hit him like a ton of bricks earlier that day.

 

The realization that, maybe, just maybe, he had feelings for Jesse. Feelings that went beyond platonic trust and affection.

 

The mere thought made his stomach bundle up into a bunch of knots, sending nervous energy down to the tips of his fingers. _Fuck,_ he just...he just wanted it to be a normal day. Wake up, eat breakfast, and spend the rest of the day being able to look at Jesse without feeling a flood of emotions rising up into the back of his throat.

 

“While you were in Nepal, a few other agents and I went on a mission, and something… _happened.”_ Genji spoke carefully, words coming out slow and precise in an attempted to maintain control. “Something happened and it made me start to see someone differently.”

 

“What do you mean?” Zenyatta asked, gently pushing him to explain a bit more. Genji lowered his gaze, eyes flicking to the side.

 

“Something happened, and I started feeling attracted to that person. As in physically _attracted_ to them, and…” He frowned, eyebrows furrowing, “Well, things are just _weird.”_

 

Zenyatta tilted his head contemplatively, “Physical attraction is a normal occurrence. There’s no need to be ashamed of that, as long as you know how to sort out that attraction.”

 

Genji shook his head rapidly, running a hand through his hair. That’s what he had told himself too, until he realized that maybe his feelings for Jesse went a little deeper than that.

 

“That— that’s not _it._ This person is a _very_ close friend, and I genuinely trust them with my life.” Genji’s eyes got wider, as if he was realizing his owns words as he spoke, “And I’ve never felt this way about them!”

 

Genji froze, mouth suddenly snapping shut. Zenyatta watched the cyborg inquisitively, as his face turned ever so slightly red. He seemed to recoil into himself, eyes going askance once more.

 

“Actually, I think…” He trailed off unsurely, “I think I may have always felt _something_ for them.”

 

He flexed his fingers, a reflex learned from the shuriken in his arm. Taking another, deep, shuddery breath, Genji turned his gaze out over the pond in the clearing.

 

“Yes, I am physically attracted to them, and if it was just that, I might have been able to get over it. But, this person, I’ve always cared for them and today, I realized that perhaps I….might have always had feelings for them. I noticed something that made me realize that in the time I've known them, I have always felt _things_ along line of romantic.”

 

Another pause.

 

“And, I _know_ this is sudden, and maybe I am jumping to conclusions, but I think I might...be in love?” Genji’s voice got quieter as he spoke, until that very last word, love, was barely audible. Another deep, shuddery inhale.

 

“Whatever the case may be, I know I am attracted to them in all meanings of the word, physically and romantically. And I don’t know what to do.”

 

Genji was silent then, his problem finally out there. He looked out over the pond, watching the light play in the water. Zenyatta observed him wordlessly, taking in the distant gaze and almost relieved drop in his shoulders. It seemed as if finally talking about it had helped, even though it came with its own price of having to acknowledge his sudden romantic feelings.

 

Then again, maybe his feelings for Jesse had always been romantic.

 

After a few minutes had passed, Zenyatta cleared his throat softly.

 

“Does Jesse know about your feelings?”

 

Genji opened his mouth, a response on the tip of his tongue, before the lines of his body tensed. His head whipped towards the monk, eyes wide and wild in something between shock and horror.

 

“HOW DID—” He sputtered out, face getting redder by the second,  “I **_never_** said—”

 

Zenyatta held back the urge to laugh. Instead, he held up a placating hand.

 

“No, you didn’t.” He murmured sympathetically, “Truth be told, it wasn’t hard to figure out.”

 

Genji’s eyes went as large as dinner plates, hands coming to clutch at his own hair in panic, _“It’s that_ **_OBVIOUS?!”_ **

 

The monk chuckled at that, shaking his head no before his pupil had a stroke.

 

“Yes, but not in the way you are thinking.” Zenyatta clarified. Relief flashed across Genji’s face, before being overtaken by confusion.

 

“Then how…?”

 

“I know because of our time spent at the Shambali. I know you, Genji. Do you remember when I would ask you about your good memories, or things from your past that made you happy?”

 

Genji nodded mutely.

 

“Your answers would always come back to Jesse.” Zenyatta said softly, “I could tell, even then, that you loved him. I could see it in the way you talked about him, in your eyes. I never mentioned it because I knew you had to focus on understanding yourself first, before understanding your feelings for him.”

 

“....I _did_ hope you’d figure it out on your own.” The monk admitted with a tilt of his head.

 

But Genji didn’t seem to be upset over not being told about it earlier. He was more preoccupied with processing some things. He had spent the last few days in utter denial of just base, physical attraction, and now all of a sudden he was realizing that _hey, maybe he’d been head over heels for Jesse for fucking_ **_years._ **

 

In the silence that lulled, another thought came to Zenyatta.

 

“Do you plan on telling Jesse?” He asked curiously. The question caused Genji to choke on air, spluttering incoherently before responding.

 

“What? No, how could— when, _how,_ what would I—” He sputtered out, face _very,_ **_very_ ** red by now.

 

Ah. Maybe he wasn’t ready for that just yet.

 

“Forgive me, I suppose you don’t want to talk about that just yet.” Zenyatta let the topic slide in favor of Genji’s wellbeing.

 

“I don’t even know if this feelings are _real._ For all I know, they could just be misplaced lust.” The cyborg sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as his brows furrowed.

 

If Zenyatta had eyebrows that he could skeptically raise, he would’ve done just that. But perhaps it would be good for his pupil to confirm it for himself, even though it was more than obvious by now.

 

“You said that this all started with sudden physical attraction, correct? If you truly wanted to confirm your feelings, see what you feel for him when the two of you are doing something general, or something you have always done together that is more innocent.” He offered, “If you realize you _do_ have feelings for Jesse…”

 

“I will deal with that if or when it comes.” Genji’s face flushed once more. He sighed, and then bowed his head in thanks. “But thank you for the advice, master. I...I think that might help me sort out whatever it is I am feeling.”

 

“Of course, Genji.” Zenyatta bowed his head back. He was about to suggest going back to the others, when something occurred to him.

 

He looked at Genji curiously, a question clearly on his mind. For others, it might be a little difficult to read emotions on omnics, but Genji was plenty experienced doing so.

 

“What is it?”

 

“I am curious, that is all. You never told me what happened on that mission that caused your initial attraction to Jesse.”

 

Genji blinked, then glanced askance. He opened and closed his mouth, suddenly looking rather embarrassed again. The cyborg grinned crookedly, radiating nervousness.

 

Well, that wasn’t suspicious in the slightest.

 

“Oh, that. The mission.” He rubbed his jawline awkwardly, “Uh, so, Jesse’s working undercover at a strip club…”

 

It wasn’t very hard to put two and two together.

 

Zenyatta regarded him quietly for a moment, then simply shook his head.

 

“I forget how carnal humans can be.” The monk murmured, mostly to himself, before casually hovering off towards the exit of the gardens.

 

“Hey!”

 

 

 

———————————

 

 

 

Get it _together,_ Genji.

 

He was pacing back and forth in the hallway, trying to work up the courage to simply knock on the Jesse’s door. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. No, he’d done just that single motion thousands of times, and he had never felt this nervous about it.

 

Then again, he had never done with the intent to finally figure out his feelings for the cowboy. And that was a _whole_ other issue, because knocking on the door meant Jesse answering it, and that meant talking to Jesse, who would probably invite him inside and _son of a bitch, he was doing it again._

 

He stopped, and took a deep breath. Okay, that was better. Focus.

 

Steeling himself, Genji walked up to the door of Jesse’s room and raised a fist. Just before he made contact with the door, he hesitated. All he had to do was talk to Jesse, and let things flow naturally from there. Theoretically, that should be _too_ hard, but...he was anxious. Very anxious. After talking with Zenyatta and coming to _multiple_ realizations, he knew talking to Jesse wouldn’t be as easy anymore, which frankly sucked ball.

 

Jesse was his closest friend, he had always been able to talk to him. Even back in Blackwatch, he used to come to Jesse to vent, because the cowboy was always such a _warm_ presence and he actually listened, and _oh boy more emotions._

 

Internally groaning, Genji finally knocked on the stupid door. He hit the side of his fist against it three times, and was promptly met with a muffled “Be right there!” Before he had time to brace himself for it, the door slid open, revealing Jesse in all his glory.

 

“Oh, hey, Genji.” Jesse grinned warmly in greeting, “Fancy meeting you here.”

 

“Are you busy?” He asked, remembering last minute to be normal and not stare like an idiot.

 

“Nah, I’m just watching old movies. Wanna join?” The cowboy stepped back from the doorway, signaling that he could come in. Jesse looked at him almost expectantly, the invitation seeming oddly innocent.

 

Genji swallowed dryly, then nodded and followed after Jesse, walking into the room. Along one wall was the tv, its screen paused in the middle of what appeared to be some old western movie. An old mattress was laid out on the middle of the floor, covered in blankets and worn looking plushies and pillows that were all oddly familiar.

 

He stopped, staring at one plushie in particular as Jesse flopped down onto the mattress and pressed play on the movie.

 

“Wait. Is that…?” Genji squinted at the familiar cat plushie accusingly, brain working to place it. In a flash, it came to him and he whirled towards Jesse in amused disbelief.

 

“It is! That’s the plushie I won at the arcade by the watchpoint in California!”

 

Genji paused as more details came to him.

 

“And then you _stole_ it from me!” He declared accusingly, though he was more amused than anything. Jesse snorted, not even trying to look innocent.

 

“I didn’t _steal_ it, I just held onto it and never gave it back.” Jesse teased, waving his hand dismissively.

 

Genji moved closer, his previous apprehensiveness momentarily forgotten, and sat down beside Jesse in the mattress. It was worn and comfortable, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same one they used for watching movies back in Blackwatch too. Now that he thought about it, he recognized almost all of the plushies and pillows scattered about— each one had its own little story behind it.

 

“I won this one for you at the arcade in Tokyo.” Genji picked up a pachimari plushie, smiling fondly, “You kept it.”

 

“Well, yeah.” Jesse leaned forward, squeezing one of the pachimari’s tentacle-limbs, “I couldn’t exactly carry it with me on the run, but I stored it in a safe house.”

 

Genji hummed under his breath, looking over the other plushies gathered, smiling at the many fond memories of Blackwatch that resurfaced. He had missed that while he was at the Shambali — running amok in the cities they visited with Jesse, scoping out the nightlife and decimating the sharpshooter games in local arcades. And all the other stupid things they did for fun, when Genji wasn’t being angsty, of course.

 

The nostalgic relics made Genji forget about love and crushes and lust, overriding his former nervousness and making him forget why he had come there in the first place. He began to feel more like he was back in his element, until he found himself back in the swing of things.

 

They comfortably alternated between conversation and actually watching the movie that was playing (though they were only really watching it to make fun of it). Everything was going so _right,_ so utterly and blissfully _normal,_ until Genji’s stomach jumped into the mix.

 

Smack in the middle of a conversation about a particularly memorable mission that had happened a few months ago, his stomach decided to imitate something between a  bear growling and a whale call. They both blinked, and looked down in surprise.

 

A second or so passed before Jesse snickered, “I don’t think I’ve _ever_ heard your stomach growl.”

 

“It’s rather rare.” Genji said dryly, looking down at his stomach, “Most likely because of it being half cybernetic.”

 

The cowboy chuckled, getting to his feet. Jesse ran a hand through his hair, then put a hand on his hip as he looked down at Genji.

 

“I don’t really have _‘real’_ food in here, but I got some popcorn for ya, if you’re interested.” He offered, already walking towards the cabinet. Genji nodded idly, watching Jesse as he opened up a bag of kernels, and tossed into the microwave.

 

It wasn’t until Jesse was walking back with the bag that he realized he had been staring at the cowboy’s ass the entire time.

 

Genji nearly jumped out of his skin when he suddenly remembered **_it._** You know, the whole thing with him maybe having feelings for Jesse.

 

He swallowed nervously as Jesse settled down beside him, and mutely took the offered bag of popcorn. Despite the fact that he had just been staring at the other man’s ass, nothing about this situation was suggestive in any way. It was just a routine little hang out that they had done thousands of times. It was innocent and friendly and nothing like seeing Jesse dressed like a stripper. He had come here because he wanted to see if had genuine _feelings_ for Jesse, as opposed to something stemmed from misplaced lust.

 

He urgently reviewed everything that had happened so far, but he couldn’t remember anything in particular. Over the course of the last hour, he had seen Jesse laugh, smile, etc., which were all the sort of thing he figured he’d feel _weird_ about if he had feelings for Jesse.

 

But he hadn’t been consciously keeping track of whatever he felt whenever something like that happened, and he couldn’t remember it for the life of him.

 

Jesse looked at him for a long moment, then casually reached over, picked up a single piece of popcorn, and flicked it as him. He let out a little squawk as the popcorn bounced off his forehead, startled out of his thoughts.

 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Jesse raised a curious eyebrow. Genji faltered, internally flailing for some sort of excuse for his behavior.

 

“I was just wondering how expired this popcorn is.” He blurted out, “I doubt it’s safe to eat if it’s from Blackwatch. 10 year old popcorn isn’t really the safest.”

 

Jesse blinked at him, then burst into laughter.

 

_Oh, no._

 

“I’m not **_that_** dumb, asshole!” The cowboy swatted him on the arm lightheartedly, shaking his head as grinned, “It’s _new,_ I took it from the commons.”

 

Genji wasn’t even paying attention. He was too busy coming to terms with what his own reaction meant.

 

His heart missed a beat at the way Jesse’s face lit up, and it genuinely felt like he had butterflies in his stomach when Jesse laughed, and _wow, that was a nice laugh._ Part of him buzzed with satisfaction at being the reason for that laugh, for being the reason Jesse looked so happy at the moment, but most of him was too preoccupied with finally accepting what Zenyatta had told him. What he had subconsciously known for years but never accepted until now. What he _really_ should have seen coming, honestly.

 

He thought about how much Jesse had always meant to him, how the cowboy was like his own personal sun, warm and oh so bright. How, when he was at the Shambali, he’d sometimes look at the night sky and think of Jesse.

 

 _Oh no. Oh no oh no_ **_oh no oh noohnohnoohnoohno OH NO._ **

 

The walls of denial crumbled.

 

_Quick, distract yourself, ask him something!_

 

“When are you going back to your cover job?”

 

 _Dumbass, don’t ask him about_ **_THAT!_ **

 

Jesse seemed mildly surprised about how sudden the question was, but got over it quickly enough.

 

“Tomorrow afternoon, why?”

 

Genji’s smiled was strained and a little too short of casual, “Nothing. Just curious.”

 

Confusion flickered across Jesse’s face for a brief moment, but he shrugged it off and continued on with the new topic at hand.

 

“Speaking of the job, I’ve been thinking about asking Torb and Brigitte tonight if they could install a built-in comm in my prosthetic.” Jesse held up his prosthetic arm for emphasis, “It’s a pain the ass to not have a comm on me while I’m under cover, so…”

 

“Huh.” Genji’s voice was so **_incredibly_** strained, it was almost funny. He was struggling to maintain some semblance of normalcy on the outside, as he had a full blown meltdown on the inside.

 

After finally realizing his own feelings t, Genji was unable to stop his eyes from taking in all of Jesse, who was much too close to him now. His body acted on autopilot, taking in all of Jesse’s stupidly nice face— expressive, earthly brown eyes framed by thick eyelashes, soft looking lips and a sharp jawline decorated with scruff — before, to his complete and total dismay, dipping downwards.

 

Jesse’s neck was bare, and Genji’s eyes traced down the column of his neck before settling on his chest. The fabric of his shirt clung to his muscles tightly, leaving very little to the imagination, and to make matters worse, the first few buttons were undone. The deep V of the resulting neckline, revealed a tempting bit of skin directly between and barely above Jesse’s pecs, practically taunting Genji to lean forward and get a taste.

 

The cowboy was (as usual) wearing equally tight pants, which hugged all of his mile-long legs. With the way Jesse was sitting and the tightness of his clothes, Genji could clearly see how his chest tapered off into a thinner waist, then flared out into wide hips. His eyes lingered a little too long on that general region, as part of him wondered what it would be like to have those thick thighs wrapped around the sides of his head.

 

“...and get _this._ Hold on, lemme show you it.” Jesse suddenly got up, breaking Genji out of his thoughts. He blinked rapidly, watch as the cowboy walked over to his closet, opened it, and fished around inside. After a moment, he turned around and held out something black.

 

Genji stared at it dumbly, not recognizing it for a second. After a moment, it sunk in, and he realized Jesse was showing the godforsaken teddy corset part of his uniform. Instantly, he had to reign in the heat shooting to his face.

 

“It looks like a one piece, right?” Jesse continued on, completely unaware of the cyborg's inner crisis. “But this thing fucking _disassembles,_ or whatever the word is.”

 

The cowboy fiddled with the fabric for a moment, and suddenly the portion that would have covered his chest, had he been wearing it, was coming off. It dangled in his other hand, completely removed from the main body of the teddy corset. Another second of Jesse fiddling with the fabric, and then the lower portion, which would’ve covered everything a few inches below the waist, came off as well.

 

“So yeah, this thing’s like some sorta convertible underbust corset.” Jesse drawled, sounding annoyed, but a little amused too. He aligned the main body, which was now just an underbust corset, with himself and unknowingly giving his audience of one a mouthwatering mental image.

 

“...Why?” Genji asked quietly, voice hoarse.

 

“Easy access, I guess.” Jesse muttered dryly. He began to put the corset back together, missing the way Genji’s brain seemed to finally short circuit at the thought.

 

The cyborg’s brain shut down, leaving only thoughts of Jesse flitting around in his skull. It was now painfully obvious to Genji that not only was he completely head over heels for Jesse, but he was completely, _painfully_ lusting over him as well.

 

That thought was only further cemented by the fact that ‘little Genji’ down below seemed to like the mental image as much as he did.

 

The vents on his shoulders snapped open, letting out a long, scalding puff of steam.

 

His eyes widened in horrified embarrassment as he realized that, yes, he was hard. Very hard. He couldn’t exactly see the extent of it, but just from the feel of it, it wasn’t some halfhearted boner. Sudden want flushed through him, though a burning amount of it was centered in his lower gut.

 

And in that moment, Genji had never been so glad to have a codpiece.

 

He jumped to his feet so fast that Jesse was genuinely started. By then, he was unable to stop the blush from plastering across his face, but that was the least of his worries.

 

Right now, he needed to **leave.**

 

 **“Ihavetogo!”** Genji blurted out, avoiding eye contact, “I, I…. I have to meditate with Zenyatta! I had fun, by, thanks, _seeyoulaterJesse!”_

 

Genji practically tripped over himself as he stomped to the door, shoulders tense and face as red as a tomato. He shoved a hand against the side the _automatically sliding door_ and forcibly pulled it open. The poor thing wasn’t even halfway there when he pushed through the gap and disappeared out in the hallway.

 

Jesse was left behind, staring at the still opening door.

 

“......Bye?”

 

Genji hurried to his room, nearly sliding past it because of the sheer momentum he was carrying. He slammed his palm against the scanner to unlock it, and forcefully pushed the door aside when it took too long to slide all the way open. He ducked inside, then whirled around and slammed the door shut behind him.

 

Breathing heavily, he leaned his back against the door. He tilted his head back against the cool surface, chest heaving as he let the adrenaline wash over him.

 

That had probably been the **_worst_** possible way he could’ve handled that situation. But right now, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was stupidly hard, and it was all because of Jesse, who was he apparently in love with, and _damn,_ today had unraveled pretty fast.

 

Once his brain started to work beyond complete-panic-mode, he peeled himself off the door, and double checked that it was locked. Upon seeing that it was, he trudged over to his bed and flopped onto it, landing spread-eagle on his back.

 

Genji stared up at the ceiling, face burning as he tried to get a grip on his thoughts and calm down his racing heart. It worked only slightly, because though he was able to even out his breathing and slow his heart down a tad, he could still hear it pounding in his ears.

 

Not to mention the fact that all he could think about was Jesse, and how he was still _achingly_ hard. He could feel his erection straining against his codpiece— not to the point of pain, but to the point where he was keenly aware of the “situation” going on down below.

 

There was just no escaping it. He was horny and had a _raging_ hardon.

 

Genji flopped his flesh arm across his face and groaned, the sound muffled by the limb. Shit, he could feel the heat of his blush on his face on his damn arm.

 

Maybe he could just sleep it off...no, he knew that wouldn’t work. And, honestly, he wasn’t sure if he was capable of doing that. A blazing inferno of want danced under his skin, pooling in his lower half and practically yelling at him to do something. The confines of the codpiece, and by proxy, his sweatpants, was starting to feel too tight for his well-being.

 

Genji slowly pulled his arm away from his face, staring up at the ceiling. With a silent sigh, he decided that he might as well take care of it.

 

But maybe not on his bed, he thought as he sat up. He didn’t feel like worrying about his sheets right now, and deep in the back of his mind, he knew this wasn’t going to be just a casual, controlled jerk off.

 

With that in mind, he moved over to the swivel chair by the desk in his room. He spun it around, facing away from the desk as an extra precaution, and sat down on it with a heavy thud.

 

Genji rolled his shoulders back, leaning into the chair as he slid his crotch out towards the edge of the seat. Getting comfortable (or as comfortable as one could get while coming to terms with the heart stopping fact that they had a ginormous crush on their best friend), he pushed down the front of his sweatpants until they were under the codpiece.

 

He used his other hand to unlatch the metal, and tossed it aside with a flick of his wrist. Under the codpiece was a thin, breathable fabric that worked as mock boxers. A rather clear bulge was pushing up against said fabric, stretching it to an almost-strain. Looking down at himself, part of Genji had to repress the urge to sigh. Seriously, you’d think he wouldn’t get so worked up over just _thinking_ about something.

 

Whatever. He had bigger problems to worry about.

 

Pushing aside the fabric, Genji let out a low sigh of relief as his dick snapped free, jumping up and bobbing slightly. The cool air of his room was a relief, if only a small one. Shiny precum had beaded at the heated, reddened tip, which seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. He wrapped a hand around his dick, muscles relaxing slightly as he idly pumped up and down a few times and rolled his head back.

 

And then he froze, as he suddenly realized that he was still thinking about Jesse.

 

Genji looked down at his arousal with a bewildered expression, as if he just realized what he was doing. Yeah, sure, he was jacking off. That was fine. But jacking off while thinking about _Jesse?_

 

No. No, absolutely not. No, he shouldn’t.

 

**Why not? The only reason he was doing this was because of Jesse.**

 

It would make things weird for him, and potentially ruin the friendship he had with the cowboy. If he did this now, he’d regret it later.

 

**But would he really?**

 

He’d have to face Jesse again in the morning, and it would suck _balls,_ because he’d have to face the cowboy knowing fully well that he’d fantasized about him while jerking it like some horny teenager.

 

 **That was a problem for future Genji. Present Genji was horny, and he had a** **_lot_ ** **of Jesse-related material to work with.**

 

But what about—

 

**But what about that ass?**

 

Genji grit his teeth as he felt his resolve crumble to dust.

 

“Athena?” His voice was gravelly as he momentarily stopped his ministrations, “Could you soundproof my room?”

 

He didn’t want to risk anybody hearing him, let alone Jesse.

 

“Done, Genji.” Athena’s voice echoed through his room, “I have soundproofed your walls.”

 

“Thanks.” He mumbled in response.

 

He waited for a minute or two for the AI’s attention to drift off somewhere else, before carrying on. Well, Genji thought, he was most likely going to regret it in the morning, but it looked like he was going to spend his evening jerking it to the thought of his best friend.

 

What a day.

 

For a good second there, Genji wondered if he’d have to mentally fish around for something. So he wasn’t sure how to feel when something came to mind literally right away.

 

As he languidly pumped his dick, his mind jumped straight to Jesse pole dancing. That little upside-down trick Jesse had done was kinda hot, and it was even hotter when he imagined the cowboy doing it in uniform. That was really the only time he’d seen Jesse pole dance, but it wasn’t like he had no reference material.

 

The first time Genji had gone to a strip club, there was one particular dancer that he’d drooled over the entire night. Now that he was thinking about it, they had a similar body type to Jesse’s. It wasn’t hard to mentally superimpose Jesse, with his long legs and thick thighs, onto the dancer.

 

But it wasn’t like Genji couldn’t think of something new, either.

 

_Jesse grinned and winked playfully, as he pressed back against the pole. The playboy bunny slid down onto his haunches, hands on his knees, before languidly stretching forward onto his elbows. He maintained half-lidded eye contact as he pushed back, pressing his ass suggestively against the pole while stretching his legs out the side._

 

_With a breathless chuckle, Jesse began to grind his hips in time with the music, gasping softly whenever the pole rubbed against his crotch. He tossed his head back, brown hair flying, as a particular grind gave him delicious friction._

 

Genji groaned, deep and low, as his strokes began to speed up, smearing precum along his cock from base to head. He kept that pace as his mind lingered on that specific fantasy, and other mouth watering snapshots of Jesse working the pole.

 

But as his pumping gradually quickened, becoming rougher with each passing second, Genji found his mind wandering into something more risky. Something like Jesse, kneeling between his legs with his hand stroking up and down Genji’s erection.

 

 _The upper portion of the teddy corset_ _had been removed, bearing wonderfully firm but soft pecs and dusky rose nipples. Jesse pushed forward, shoving his chest against Genji’s dick as the cyborg grabbed a fistful of soft brown hair. The copious amount of pre slathered across the cowboy’s pecs, causing his dick to start sliding between them with little resistance but just the_ ** _right_** _amount of friction._

 

Oh, fuck, that was hot. Genji’s hips jerked forward out of their own volition, as he cursed gruffly under his breath. Unable to help himself, a guttural _“God, Jesse”_ found its way out of his throat.

 

_Jesse pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock, then ran his tongue up a vein along the side of it, looking up through his lashes the third time. After a few more open mouthed kisses pressed along the heated length, Jesse scooted back. The playboy bunny leaned back on his hips, shifting so that his legs were now spread out in front of him._

 

Part of Genji was vaguely aware of the insane amount of pre that was leaking all over his hand, but he didn’t give a flying fuck at the moment.

 

_Jesse reached down, and, after a moment of fiddling with the fabric, ripped away the lower half of the teddy corset. His dick jumped free, flinging a little stand of pre along the way (Genji had never seen Jesse’s dick, but he assumed it was the same beautiful sun kissed tan as the rest of him). The underbust corset managed to frame Jesse’s pecs and hips at the same time, making Genji’s mouth water. With a coy smile, the cowboy reached down and pumped himself a few times._

 

_Long legs clad in fishnet stockings spread even further as Jesse back to bare the winking hole just a few inches below his taut balls. Once he had gathered enough pre, Jesse reached down between his legs, momentarily pausing to give his balls a playful squeeze. He pressed a finger against the tight ring of muscle in his entrance, and with a breathless moan, pushed the digit inside._

 

By then, Genji had nearly fallen apart. His hand was practically a blur, roughly pumping his cock as he growled out a litany of curses and broken Japanese, Interjected repeatedly with Jesse’s name.

 

_Jesse bit his lip, face flushed, as he began to slowly thrust the finger in and out. After stretching himself out for a bit, he added another. Slowly, he built up momentum, and was able to add a third finger. He threw his head back as it popped in, mouth dropping open into a needy, desperate gasp._

 

_It wasn’t long before Jesse was furiously thrusting his fingers in and out of himself in time with Genji’s strokes. Lewd moans spilled out of the cowboy’s mouth on every other thrust, and suddenly he was arching his back, legs kicking and mouth opening into a scream as he hit his own prostate straight on. His high heels scraped against the ground as he reflexively kicked out, legs spasming ever so slightly. Jesse stayed like that, back arched sinfully and thighs trembling as he continued to mindlessly, roughly fingerfuck himself. His other hand alternated between desperately clawing at the ground, tugging on a pebbled nipple, and jerking his dick  in time with his fingers._

 

_Suddenly, Jesse was turning over onto his knees. He lifted his hips up into the air, pushing his ass back in a sinful display. Jesse looked back over his shoulder at the cyborg, eyes hazy with lust and lips parted breathlessly as he spread his legs, literally presenting himself to Genji_

 

 _“Fuck, please,_ **_Genji, fuck me!”_ ** _Jesse moaned, clawing at the ground needily, eyes flashing with want._

 

Oh, **shit.**

 

“JESSE!”

 

Orgasm hit Genji like a truck, washing over him in nearly _painful_ waves of pleasure. His hips reflexively jerked forward once more as he came with a throaty shout. It rolled through him, blinding his mind from any sort of thoughts even after his dick had stopped spurting cum.

 

His chest heaved as he slowly, slowly came back down from his high. It took him nearly fivefold minutes to fully come back to himself, and even then his mind had yet to reboot entirely. Genji sat there, wide eyed and chest heaving, as his neurons and synapses finally clicked back into place, diverting away from heated afterthoughts of _Jesse_ and _sex._

 

Genji panted, looking at the room around him with wide eyes, before looking down at himself. Cum was splattered across his hands, a thin trickle still oozing out of the tip of his dick. Some had even landed on the floor, splattering it with white. All of it came from three days worth of raw desire and want and mind numbing sexual _and_ romantic frustration.

 

And all of it was because of Jesse, who he was head over heels for.

 

**_God, he was so fucked._ **

 

 

 

 

———————————

 

 

 

Jesse hummed under his breath, grinning as he fiddled with the holoscreen on his prosthetic. He been planning on updating his prosthetic for a while now, so this was definitely something he was happy about.

 

Last night, he had gone to the Watchpoint’s workshop to ask Brigitte and Torb if they could install a built-in comm into his prosthetic. The father-daughter duo had agreed enthusiastically — it seemed like they were just as eager to plan around with some new mech — and taken the prosthetic for him to update it. They kept it overnight, and so today morning he had stopped by the workshop to pick up his updated prosthetic.

 

And damn, was it updated.

 

They had even installed little mics he could use on the job! They were pretty inconspicuous, considering how the mics were shaped like tiny beads and managed to fit into a hidden slot in his prosthetic. It was a pretty good start to the day. Jesse was on his way to the cafeteria for breakfast, and he was spending the entire walk there playing around with his holo-comm.

 

The sound of a door sliding open and footsteps made him look from his arm. He raised his head, excited to show off the new additions to his prosthetic to the other agent, only to see the door to Genji’s room opening. The cyborg had yet to to notice him, simply stepping out of his room and closing the door behind him.

 

“Mornin’, Gen!” Jesse called out cheerfully, reflexively bringing a hand up in greeting. He momentarily broke into a light jog to intercept the other man. Genji froze at the sound of his voice, then _slooooooowly_ turned to look at Jesse.

 

“Check it out, I finally got that comm installed in my prosthetic.” Jesse slowed to a stop and held up his arm, grinning excitedly. He was about to keep talking about it, but then he noticed the Genji’s reaction.

 

Or, more accurately, the complete and total lack of one.

 

Genji was utterly still, face impassive. He seemed entirely dead behind the eyes as he stared silently at Jesse, not so much as a peep leaving his mouth. He seemed tired, almost as if he had stayed up all night thinking about something.

 

Jesse gazed in confusion, taking in the deadpan expression on the cyborg’s face with a puppy-like head tilt, “Hold on, you alright there?”

 

Genji said nothing, maintaining dead-eyed eye contact with the cowboy that was only interrupted by the occasional blink. His gaze was vacant— mournfully resigned, almost — as he simply quietly stared. Jess shifted from foot to foot, gradually growing more confused/concerned.

 

After a couple of minutes of dead silence, the cyborg finally spoke.

 

“I left something in my room.” Genji said, voice impassive and emotionless. He turned on his heel and walked straight into his room without another word of explanation. The door slid shut behind him with a soft click, leaving Jesse alone in the hallway.

 

“O...kay.”

 

Jesse stared at the shut door, wondering what the hell all _that_ was about. His brows furrowed in slight confusion. Aftering giving the door one last incredulous glance, he kept on walking down the hallway. He figured that Genji was probably just tired, that’s all.

 

 

But as he rounded the corner, Jesse swore he heard something that sounded vaguely like muffled, frustrated yelling.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I actually don't know if I'll be able to post again until summer break, with finals looming in the distance and all, but if I do, cool! If I don't, good luck with finals yall and I'll see you later!! 
> 
> In the meantime, feel free to hit me up on my [tumblr](https://regret-dot-jpg.tumblr.com/) or my [twitter](https://twitter.com/regretdotjpg) whenever u wanna talk, whether it's abt this fic or something else.
> 
> Remember to leave a REQUEST if you have one!! Please, pleaaase, leave a kudos and/or a comment if you liked it! K but seriously I'm open to all kinds of feedback.
> 
> Thanks for reading this self-indulgent hot mess!!


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